Until the Sun Rises
by dappledshadows
Summary: Set during the summer after 2x24: An undercover case brings Beckett out to the Hamptons where she crosses paths with a certain mystery writer who's eager to join the investigation.
1. Chapter 1

_Until the Sun Rises_

* * *

Chapter 1:

* * *

Castle chugs down another vodka martini as he rolls his shoulders back. The tight material of his blazer restricts his movements and he grunts. The figures of people dolled up in evening attire mingle around him; elegant cocktail dresses in a dizzying array of colours, matching ties, and a collection of heels that could rival those in Beckett's closet.

 _Beckett._

He slams back the rest of his glass, careful to make sure he still looks at least somewhat dignified as he suffers through this party. He's waiting it out by the bar and trying to erase all trace of the detective who's been preoccupying his mind for the last couple of months. Instead, he scans the crowd of socialites as he searches for any sign of the deep purple dress, with the plunging neckline he very much appreciates, that Gina's wearing.

His ex-wife slash publisher slash girlfriend practically had to drag him to the annual bash of some other author on _Black Pawn_ 's payroll, and how he 'simply couldn't pass up the publicity of showing up at such a high profile party.' So, here he is lingering by the bar as he fakes his usual cheery public persona, when he'd really much rather be having a catch-up FaceTime call with his daughter.

He cares about Gina, he really does, and he's glad that he can share the company of someone who he was once very much in love with. It's just that he can't help but wish he could be spending his time out in the Hamptons this summer with a certain someone else.

Beckett doesn't feel that way about him, that much was made clear when Demming came along and snagged all opportunity for Castle to prove how extraordinary he and Beckett could be as more than just partners.

He mentally shakes himself, rids his brain of the cloud of Beckett polluting his mind, trying to clear the air and remind himself of the wonderful woman, one who actually cares about him, who he brought here on his arm tonight.

Speaking of Gina, the familiar fair head of hair on the other side of the room catches his attention. She spent hours in front of the mirror labouring over her glassy up do, and he admires her elegance again as she talks to some of her colleagues over by the large glass windows. The arches tower high over the banquet hall towards the ceiling, casting the entire room in speckled shadows of the night, and he'd been completely mesmerised by the sight of so many stars out here away from the city when they'd first arrived. Gina had resorted to pinching him to get his focus again.

Subconsciously moving to rub at the nail marks still decorating his forearm, he listens to the steady croon of music. It's a soothing tune that has couples migrating towards the centre of the floor to dance. The song lulls him into a strange trance, and he finds himself following the sound towards the far end of the hall, eager to people-watch and maybe get lucky enough to be struck with a character idea for his novel in the midst of his mind-fogged haze. At least it'll make him feel as though he's been somewhat productive today.

Taking up watch at the end of the buffet table - always a good place to observe individual habits - he slowly sips at the remaining liquid sloshing inside his glass and leans against the starch white of the table cloth, giving his eyes permission to roam the hall freely.

There are mostly older people here, rich weekenders visiting their multi-million dollar houses. Not unlike him to be fair, but he does know that none of them are involved in the publishing business. He would recognise them, after all. They're most likely some large business cats eager to flash their gold at whatever high end parties come their way.

He quickly grows bored of attempting to create interesting backstories for the mostly uninteresting people he's surrounded by and shifts from his position leaning against the wall to move elsewhere, scuffing his shoes against the floor in boredom. A flash of long leg stilting out from a tight skirt catches his eye and he spins around to follow the creamy silk of skin. He's surprisingly disappointed when he sees nothing but a crowd of people meshing together on the main floor.

He could have sworn he recognised those endless legs.

Rubbing a hand against his temple, he releases a heavy sigh as his shoulders sag. He needs to get a grip. This is getting ridiculous. Kate Beckett's presence just keeps following him wherever he goes, clinging onto him stubbornly so that he can't shake it off.

Someone calls his name, trying to grab his attention from behind a group of people lining up by the buffet table, but he is so not in the mood for feigning interest right now.

He shuffles backwards, ducking behind the people moving around him, rushing to talk to friends or get to the food buffet, and he snaps out of his wallowing to clumsily dodge the reaching arms and striding legs so he can scuffle over to the windows, needing some air.

Leaning against the large frame, he inhales a breath and closes his eyes, taking just a moment to collect himself and shake off the aching remains of what could have been. He just wants to get tonight over with so he can have a fresh, Beckett-free, start tomorrow morning.

He opens his eyes again, adjusting to the dim glow of lights from the chandeliers above him, feeling the final pieces of his façade slot into place like a jigsaw to prepare him for the onslaught of fake smiles he's about to flash.

As he turns to his left, planning to quietly slink back over to Gina and just let her do the talking tonight, he abruptly stops in his tracks.

A woman is standing a few windows down from him, alone, resting back against the velvety red material of the curtains weighing down from the ceiling to brush the floor. One arm is wrapped around her waist, while the other hand brushes back a wave of brunette curls that have fallen to shield her face.

He finds himself inching forwards, drawn towards this mysterious woman by a magnetic force that he can't comprehend. He wants to know her. He wants to know the story explaining why a gorgeous young woman is standing alone on the side-lines at a high profile party. He wants to know why she seems to be observing the room as intently as he is. He wants to know how on _earth_ someone could have legs that look so perfect and long in the tight, electric blue dress she's wearing.

Wait.

He knows that dress.

He's _seen_ that dress.

Her head suddenly lifts up, shaking the stubborn curls off her shoulders as she turns to look directly at him with striking green eyes that make his heart feel like it's falling out of his chest.

Holy shit.

" _Beckett?"_

* * *

The universe hates her.

The universe must _absolutely hate_ her for something awful she's done in a past life. It's the only thing that can explain the utterly terrible luck she's experienced over the past couple of weeks.

At first she'd been inaptly relieved that they'd caught a big case earlier this month, an investigation into the serial murders of upper-class escorts, all part of the same organisation. As much as she hated herself for it, Beckett couldn't help but welcome the murder investigation as a distraction from the pains of her own life by allowing her to honour the death of someone else's.

That had all been fine to start with, maybe a little more stressful than usual, but she was still enjoying the opportunity to dive into something else and ignore the constant yelling in her brain that's been ever present recently.

And then things got a little more complicated.

Their prime suspect, the organisation pimp, had run off to the Hamptons in order to gain more business for the summer, a place unfortunately well out of the twelfth's jurisdiction.

That's when vice and the Hamptons PD had contacted her Captain, and he'd called her with a proposition: She could continue working the case if she and the boys went undercover.

After a heated argument with Montgomery, she had relented, agreeing to use her knowledge of the case and experience in vice and go undercover as a newbie to the prostitution ring, as much as she despises the whole idea.

Which brings her here; participating in her 'audition' as she lingers on the outskirts of a party that's extravagance rival's even Castle's book launch party,

So of course the man himself has shown up here too.

All she's been told over a secure email from the organisation leader is to show up at the given address, and prove that she's a worthwhile investment by finding a client. Of course, this guy doesn't know that the said 'client' will be Esposito, who's waiting around this huge hall somewhere for her signal to get into character.

She never imagined she'd run into the very writer she's been trying to _run_ _from._

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ " she mutters under her breath, dropping her head down so that her longer curls fall forward and hide her face from him again and smoothing a clammy palm down the fitted material of her Hervé Léger dress. It was a stupid idea to wear this, completely _ridiculous_ that she'd thoughtlessly picked out an outfit that both Castle and all the people and reporters at his book launch party last year would have seen her in. But it's not exactly like she has a wide range of outfits that would be appropriate for a high-class prostitute.

She tries to merge into the crowd of people before her, wary of the watchful gaze of her murder suspect and 'employer' who is surely spying on her from somewhere else in the room, eager to assess her skills.

This must be some kind of Black Pawn shindig then, because she'd been sure there was no chance of running into Castle here, not when he'd seemed so enthusiastic about spending the summer shacking up with his ex-wife.

Right, not the time for that, Beckett.

A quick glance out the corner of her eye shows the author advancing towards her, a dazed mix of shock and glee shining from him now that he's spotted her here, and she backs away, head zipping from side to side as she looks desperately for some way to disappear. She cannot have him blowing her cover.

And, to be honest, she doesn't think she can handle being around him anymore. Not without the flaring rage of mortification and grief she feels every time she's reminded of the day he left her standing like a fool in the precinct, cursing her own stupidity for ever thinking they could work as more than just friends.

It doesn't mean that she can deny missing him though.

He's moving closer to her, his steps speeding up to a slow jog as she stumbles to a stop, frozen like a deer in the headlights as she realises that she has no way of avoiding this, not if she wants to keep up her cover.

Castle reaches out to her when he gets close enough, hand out in an attempted wave, but she shoots her arm forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling it down so forcefully that he almost staggers into her.

The heat of him surrounds her as he grips her waist to keep his balance, his touch burning through the flimsy material of her dress to set fire to her skin. She's dizzy with it. The familiar smell of him that she hadn't realised she'd missed these past few months makes her head spin.

 _Jeez, Beckett. Get a hold of yourself._

Character. Stay in character, and everything will be fine.

She stops struggling against him, taking a second to roll her shoulders back, before tugging him forward. The unexpected momentum must throw him off, and he trips after her, his feet fumbling as she drags him towards the mesh of people on the main floor.

The shield of long skirts and dancing bodies keep prying eyes away from them as they're crowded in, and he startles when she spins around to face him head on.

She takes a fistful of the expensive dress shirt he's wearing, the material cool to the touch as it bunches in her hands, hard edges of buttons nudging her skin. Jerking his body closer, she has to take a moment to collect herself, indulge in the sweet sin of having his body against hers, before snapping her carefully crafted persona back into place.

Castle releases a stuttering gasp as he lifts both hands to catch himself against the curve of her waist, and the contact sets her heart thumping, bursting to escape from the cage of her ribs.

" _Beckett,"_ he gasps, so close that the rush of breath airs past her cheek, and her skin tingles with the contact. "What are you _doing_ here?"

She ignores him, lifting up slightly, although her heels put her almost eye to eye with him anyway, and leans in close to whisper in his ear.

"Shut up and _go with it_."

Gaping at her, he nods dumbly as his arms retract from around her waist, as if he's suddenly realised that he's touching her, and he doesn't _touch her._ Instead he holds his palms out in innocence, backing away _._ Beckett swallows down her temporary grief at the loss of contact, the fiery embers cooling to coal as he retreats further from her, and she reaches out to snag his upturned hands and pull him against her again in a vice like grip.

" _Dance."_

Gritted out from between the clench of her teeth, she slips back into character with that single demand, positioning Castle's arms around her before winding her own around his neck.

The assault to her nerve endings is almost overwhelming, every point of contact fanning the fire of arousal shooting through her veins. She shoves it down with the simple reminder of how he left her that day, left her to come out here with his ex-wife, who is more than likely around somewhere.

"Dance?" he asks, head shaking in confusion when she starts to lead him, pushing forward with the weight of her body to get him moving. "Wh-What's going on, Beckett? Why are you _here?"_

"Not Beckett," she glares at him, voice hissing through her teeth as she tries to keep the scowl she can feel itching to form off her face. " _Houghton."_

"Hough-" he starts, looking completely bewildered, his arms dangling limply from her body, as if afraid to touch her. "What are you _talking_ about?"

Okay, enough of this.

She tries to release the tension keeping her limbs taut, letting the persona of ' _Houghton'_ wash over her head and drown the hesitance and frustration currently thrumming through Kate Beckett. Allowing herself to melt into him, she presses her body up against his, her arms going slack around him as she tangles her fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

Castle splutters, obviously shocked by the unexpected contact, and she barely resists rolling her eyes at his reaction to a simple touch from her. Tilting her head so that her nose brushes the skin of his cheek, the slight stubble scratches at her in a way that sends shivers of want down her spine, and her voice drips with it as she whispers low in his ear.

"Are you looking to buy some… _extra,_ company tonight?"

She feels the way he staggers further into her, his hips crashing against hers as he misses a step, and she finds herself biting her lip, trying to keep the unwanted threads of desire at bay.

Pulling away, he stares at her, long and hard. She fights not to shy away from the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes bore into her as he searches her face, and just flutters her lashes at him, pursing her lips slightly as she sends him a dark smirk.

She knows the exact moment he catches on, when the light flashes in his eyes and his entire face pulls back and transforms in to an expression of unadulterated excitement.

He moves his arms up from where they'd been hanging lifelessly at her sides, gripping onto her forearms as he leans into her.

"Are you undercover?" he asks, face beaming, and she immediately whacks his arms away from her.

"Not if you blow my cover, you idiot," she growls at him, lowering her hands and squeezing his shoulders in warning.

He opens his lips, maybe not to say anything damaging, but she can't take that chance, so she slaps a palm over his mouth. Ignoring his muffled protests, she drags him down by his collar, hissing to him in a rushed whisper.

"If you screw this up for me, I will not hesitate to rip off your limbs and feed them to you," she feels him gulp under the press of her palm, but she doesn't let up. "So, just _go with it."_

Removing her hand, she gives the surrounding area a once over, checking to make sure they're still mostly covered by the other couples dancing around them.

Castle is watching her, blue eyes huge and staring down with a strange mixture of confusion and awe. It gives her a strange butterfly sensation in the pits of her stomach, but she shoves the emotion down, refusing to even acknowledge any lingering feelings for him she may have once had, but has since realised were mistakes.

She doesn't care anymore. She's over whatever delusions she'd once been captive to.

Letting that thought spur her on, sink into the pores of her being, she bites on the plump bottom of her lip, sticky with lipstick, and blinks up at him, making sure to give her lashes an extra flutter.

Her eyes follow the contraction of his throat as it works in response to her flirting, and she lets the confidence that he still feels the electric pulse between them spur her on to allow her fingers to play a rhythm against his chest. The dance over the smooth cotton of his dress shirt makes him inhale sharply, and she tries to keep her breathing even as she feels the stutter of his chest beneath her exploring palm.

Oh this is a bad idea. _Such_ a bad idea.

She's about to retract her hand, tell him to forget it and meld back into the crowd with an excuse ready as to why she can't take this particular client, when two strong arms wrap around her, hauling her into contact with the very chest she wants to run from.

He's so warm, so firm beneath her, a _round_ her, that she can't help but meld against him and let her palms smooth flat against the span of his chest so she's startlingly aware of his heart pumping rhythmically in time with her own. Gazing up at him, she curses herself for feeling so shy and surely betraying any true emotions with the stain of red she knows is blushing her cheeks.

The intensity of his stare certainly doesn't help matters, and when his lips brush her ear, she curses herself for allowing her eyes to flitter closed.

"So," the dark rumble of his chest vibrates against hers, and she has to catch herself to stop the gasp of air from escaping her lips. " _Houghton,_ was it?"

She swallows thickly, silently cursing herself for her body's innate reaction to him. "Yes."

Castle backs away from her and reveals the satisfied smirk he's gracing her with, reaching up with one hand to gently brush away the curl of hair that has escaped her fancy 'half-up do', tucking it behind her ear. Her lips part, mouth dropping open, at the contact, and she stares up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with having _so much_ of him after being left partner-less for the past few weeks.

His gaze flicks down to the pink of her lips, before travelling the length of her body, seemingly drinking in the sight of her in a way that makes her want to squirm, before glancing back up at her lazily, his mouth still fixed in a smirk that does things to her heart rate.

He leans in close again, and her mind suddenly blanks, short circuiting from the onslaught on sensations she's feeling all at once from his proximity. Her mouth parts again, and as her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, she watches his eyes darken as he gets closer and closer to-

"Isn't Houghton your middle name?"

She blinks, backing away from him. The bubble bursts and she immediately sees clarity again, everything coming back into focus around her.

"You're such a _jerk,"_ she snaps at him, whacking away the hand he's using to stroke the slightly bunched material at the curve of her waist, stalking away from him without another word.

So _stupid_ to let herself get lost in the haze of him, in the fantasy she briefly believed they could share together if she were just brave enough to take the leap. But here he is, in the Hampton's with his ex-wife, blissfully happy without her, while she's working undercover as a freaking _escort_ for the sleaziest guy out there.

She hears Castle stutter a shout behind her, as if he's just managed to hold off from calling out her name. Well at least he's not _completely_ forgotten how undercover operations work…

Ignoring him, she weaves in and out of the people swaying around them, dancing in time to the lazy music crooning from the band on the other side of the hall. She eventually spots Ryan by the door, pretending to be a security guard, but instead secretly keeping tabs on her. Catching her eye, he subtly motions towards Esposito, who is over by the buffet table on his right.

Giving a slight tilt of her head in response, she makes her way over to Espo, adding an extra sway to her step as she tries to meld back into her given character, attempting to shake off the aftereffects of dealing with Castle.

A hand reaches out to grab her arm, spinning her back around with ease to face the very writer whom she wants to avoid. Her mouth opens to scold him, tell him to go back to his _girlfriend_ and forget that he ever saw her here, but he beats her to it, his fingers sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of goose bumps before gently circling her wrist.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, his voice low and just for her as he searches her eyes. "Would you like to dance?"

She blinks at the request, the change of attitude suddenly giving her whiplash as she stares at him blankly, filtering through her brain to try and think of an acceptable response.

"Would I like to-" she stutters, gaping at him. "What?"

His expression doesn't shift, but still remains that soft, warm, look that makes the anger seep out of her for a moment. It reminds her of that day so long ago now, when she approached him during his farewell party, bubbling with under the surface eagerness to finally spill out all the feelings she'd been denying for so long.

But it had been a phase. She's over it now. Over _him._

"I couldn't help but see you standing at the side lines, _Houghton,"_ he says, snapping her out of the bitter memories lying dormant in her mind. "I was wondering if you'd like to dance."

Is he playing along?

"No, that's okay," she stumbles the words out, trying to focus on the case, her cover, and the situation in front of her rather than the Castle-fumed fog currently clouding her brain and judgement. "Espo- I mean, I have a gentleman waiting for me over-"

"Nonsense," he interrupts her, tugging her arm as he leads her towards the outskirts of the herds of swaying couples on the dancefloor. "I'm sure he won't mind waiting a few more minutes."

She's helpless to resist when he tugs her closer to him, looping an arm around her waist as the other cradles her hand, his delicate touch contrasting with the sparks of awareness zipping down her nerve endings.

This has to stop. She can't hold up her cover if her body keeps betraying her like this.

"Castle," she whispers, careful to keep her voice hushed as she speaks directly into her ear. "You can't be doing this."

"Why not?" he asks, oblivious to the inner turmoil swirling around her chest, inching at her lungs. "We can both be undercover."

" _No,"_ she snaps, louder than she'd intended based on the numerous heads turning to look towards them before everyone goes back to admiring their partners. "No," she says, careful to be quieter this time. "You can't get involved in this, Castle."

"Involved in _what?"_ he says, looking thoroughly confused as his grip on her hand tightens slightly. "What are you even _doing_ out here? The Hamptons is _way_ out of your jurisdiction."

Releasing a weighted sigh, her limbs sag slightly in surrender. Giving into the temporary want of being close to him after missing his presence for so long, she lets her fist bunch in the material of his suit jacket where her hand has found a perch on his shoulder.

"A case of serial murders, not that it's any of _your_ business," she can't help the lace of bitterness entwining her words, turning her head from his as she scans the room, careful to keep her voice low. "High end escort girls, drugged and left with their throats slit out on the street. We know the guy in charge is responsible, we just couldn't find proof, so when he moved out here to collect more business for the summer, the Hamptons PD asked me to go undercover as one of the girls."

"Why you?" he asks her, the soft rumble of his voice in her ear, a sound she can't deny having missed hearing every day. It has her fisting his jacket tighter while she tries to resist the shudder itching at her spine. "Why not one of the other cops out here? This can't be safe for you."

She barely resists rolling her eyes at his misguided concern. "My knowledge of the case and previous experience in the vice unit made me a 'perfect candidate', at least according to the chief down here and Montgomery when he ordered me to come out and take on a cover."

"What if he finds out though?"

"I know what I'm doing, okay?" she shakes her head, pulling back to narrow her eyes at him, regretting the decision almost immediately when she notices the pinched concern written on his features. "Ryan and Espo are here to back me up. Actually, Espo was the one I was supposed to be with tonight, before you interrupted me."

"How was I supposed to resist when I see you standing there dressed like this?" he murmurs, eyes lighting up as he smirks at her. The boyish smile reminding her so painfully much of when they worked together. Before he left.

She feels him leading her into a semblance of a dance, gently swaying her body side to side with him while she's helpless to resist, letting her body soften against his in a fantastical image of what they could have been.

 _No. Haven't you learnt your lesson? He's didn't choose you, and it would never work out anyway._

Opening her mouth to respond, she's about to shake off his attempt of flirting, likely his way of restoring their old banter again despite the fact it will be tainted by his new relationship, when she spots a familiar figure approaching them as he weaves through the bodies on the dancefloor.

Tall and somewhat muscular, his form stands out vividly as he makes his way towards them, rat eyes narrowed to hungry slits as he watches her. His hair is slicked back, the wet black looking disturbingly like oil, in the fancy style that she's guessing is to help the glorified pimp fit in with his upper class buddies.

She pulls away from Castle abruptly, eyes fixed on her new 'boss' as he approaches, trying to slip into the character of Houghton in the five steps it will take him to reach them on the outskirts of the dancefloor. Shy and naïve, she's playing the part of a young woman who's trying to make her way in with the rich folk after her parent's disowned her and left her with nothing, now partaking in an 'audition' to see if she's worthy of hire.

Bruce, her manager and not-yet-proved-to-be murderer, strides over to her and a befuddled Castle, who's grappling at her hips to try and bring her back towards him, before coming to a stop just in front of them.

"Houghton," he starts, his voice a slimy kind of smooth that makes her skin prickle with suppressed shudders. "Who is this man you seem to be cozying up to?"

"Richard Castle," the writer himself interjects smoothly before she can so much as open her mouth to respond, plastering on a smile that screams of his faux persona to anyone who knows him well. "And… _Houghton_ was just doing me the pleasure of sharing a dance."

"Was she now?" Bruce gives her a slow once over that makes her want to crawl inside her own skin. "Is that all?"

Crap, he's not supposed to think she's with Castle. Esposito is over the other end of the hall waiting patiently to play the part of 'client' and take her out of here so she and the boys can return to their safe house and start working on what they have so far.

"Actually," she starts, eager to end this little chit-chat before something jeopardises her cover. "Mr Castle and I were just talking before-"

"-Before she comes home with me," Castle interrupts her, and Beckett feels her face go slack with shock. "Houghton explained that she's… _of service,_ tonight, is that correct?"

The shock of white teeth from Bruce's sinister grin is all it take to have a weight falling in Beckett's stomach, the bulk of dread making her feel ten times heavier as panic starts to take over her.

 _This isn't how it's supposed to go._

"That is very much correct, Mr Castle," Bruce says, reaching out to shake Castle's hand. "Houghton would be happy to accompany you home."

Castle turns to her, a shit-eating grin plastered across his mouth that automatically dulls when he notices the shocked fury most likely painting her face, the draining of colour that she can feel seeping out of her.

She is going to _kill_ him.

"Yes," she says tightly between the clenched teeth of her forced smile. "Let's get out of here, Mr Castle."

* * *

 _A/N: Okay, new story! Once again this has been pre-written and is already complete, so hopefully there won't be much delay between chapter updates. Thank you so much to Bean, my personal cheerleader, for all of her help and for beta-ing this fic._

 _Thank you for reading and I'd love to know what you think!_

 ** _Twitter: dappledshadows_**

 ** _Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops_**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

* * *

She drags him up the porch steps, tugging on his blazer as he trails behind her, feet stumbling as he tries to keep up with her long strides. It's well past midnight now, the summer air cooler out here by the sea, and the gentle breeze skimming his face is a direct contrast to the harsh grip the v _ery_ pissed off detective is currently holding him in.

Coming to a halt just in front of the house, he feels himself bump into the door as Beckett swings him forward, and he yelps at the impact, his expensive suit jacket now well and truly rumpled thanks to the harsh creases her fists have bunched in the material.

" _Jeez,_ Beckett," he exclaims, wincing at the throb of his shoulder and steadying himself with a hand to the white wood of his front door. "What was that for?"

Her eyes narrow at him, pupils darkening to match the black of night wrapping itself around them, the glow of the moon behind her head creating an eerie halo that has him sinking further back.

She is seriously pissed off.

"Open the door, Castle," she orders, staring down at him, glare still hard and piercing through the layers of his skin, jabbing at his insides. Okay, maybe he shouldn't have insinuated himself into her obviously _very important_ undercover operation, but he just couldn't help it. He's missed her, and seeing her again has made him impulsive, blind to any consequence other than _her._

Fumbling for his key - he's sure it's buried deep in his pockets somewhere _-_ he notices a slight change to her posture the second he takes his eyes off her. The tenseness of her spine eases and her arms come up to wrap around her waist.

Looking up, he manages a quick glance at her face before the mask slips back into place, the costume she's wearing that sets out to make him believe she's just frustrated about all this, and him. But the split second softening of her expression, something he can't quite decipher melting from her face as it hardens into a scowl again, tells him all he needs to know.

Something else is going on here.

His fingers catch onto the jagged edges of the keys and he lifts them from his pocket with a slight jingle, sliding the right key easily into the lock and turning it. The doors swings open and he leans inside to hold it open for Beckett, revelling in the cool burst of the air conditioner inside. She storms past him, not acknowledging his act of chivalry as she turns towards the living room, seemingly knowing where she's going without ever stepping foot in here before.

 _Because she didn't want to._

He shakes himself free of the negative thoughts holding him, pulling the door closed with a quiet _snick_ and following her through the right corridor and around the kitchen, switching lamps on as he goes to give the place a little light. And hopefully make Beckett look less intimidating.

Coming to an immediate halt next to the couch, she spins around to face him, her hair so much longer now that the curls fly out with the momentum, landing delicately on her shoulder in chocolate ringlets that he can't bring himself to take his eyes off. The electric blue of her dress, a colour that has been fixed in his memory with perfect vision ever since his book launch party last year, clings to her frame, hugging her curves perfectly.

She looks absolutely stunning.

It's familiar, but at the same time he can see so many differences from the last time he saw her. It reminds him how long he's been away, and he suddenly wonders what caused this softer, possibly more haunted, Beckett to come about. The thought causes his heart to ache deeply inside his chest.

He takes a hesitant step towards her, the need to be closer to her after all this time apart driving him forward as he inches further into the room. "Beckett-"

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, Castle?" she cuts him off, pointing an accusing finger towards his chest as she takes a step closer herself. She's almost eye to eye with him in these heels, a fact that he finds both arousing and slightly terrifying. "Actually, do you know what? You w _eren't_ thinking. Because what you just did in there, is the most idiotic, egotistical, _reckless_ thing you have ever done. And that is saying something."

He hangs his head, the expensive suit he's wearing suddenly feeling too tight around him, too restrictive, as he lets the accusations sink into his skin.

It was stupid. What he'd done in there tonight was an impulsive decision he'd made while clouded by the lack of judgement Beckett's presence usually gives him. He realises that now.

"Do you have _any_ idea what the consequences of that little ploy could have been? You almost blew the entire operation, Castle."

"I'm sorry," he tells her sincerely as he drops his gaze from hers, hanging his head as he studies the shine of wood beneath his feet, scuffing his shoes against it with a slight squeak. "I didn't know you were undercover until it was too late. I was just pleased to see you."

When he glances back up, he sees the way her face has softened. The way the adorable crease between her brows has become more of a slight shadow rather than a crevasse speaking of her frustration, the green of her eyes now lighter and have some of their spark back.

It makes him brave, perhaps stupidly so, but he still finds himself moving a little closer to her, meeting her eyes as he gives her a pleased tilt of his lips. "I've missed you, Beckett."

Her eyes widen just a fraction, and if he were any further away, he would have missed it entirely, but her jaw tightens before him, lips turning down in a small frown.

"You're the one who _left,_ Castle."

Bitterness laces her words, slipping through the emotionless barriers she's built between them to sock him in the gut and steal his breath.

She didn't even want him there, though. She's found someone else, someone less 'idiotic, egotistical and reckless', someone who volunteers at underprivileged youth basketball and doesn't have a string of failed relationships trailing after him, gripping at his heels.

He opens his mouth to argue, to yell that he didn't want to leave, he just couldn't take the thought of still being with her if he's just going to be a thorn in her side every day, an annoying pain that just pokes around and gets in the way of everything. The words get stuck in his throat, and then Beckett's already barrelling over him.

"You came here to write, to 'get away from the city for a while'," she repeats his own words bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest, hiding the gaping streak of bare skin. He recognises her curling in on herself, hiding the most vulnerable parts. "And there is _no way_ that I'm allowing you to insinuate yourself in this investigation."

"What?" he startles, shaking his head slightly at the words. "Why? I can help."

Beckett sighs, closing her eyes for a moment, and the smoky shimmer of her eyelids catches the dim glow of the lamp on the side table next to him, her eyelashes fluttering in shadows across her cheeks.

"This is not some tag along investigation, Castle," she explains sternly, opening her eyes again to stare at him, and she unfolds her arms to drop them back down by her sides. "It's a highly important, and _dangerous,_ undercover operation. One that I cannot have you involved in."

The light is hitting her more directly now, and he starts to notice all the parts of her that are, well, slightly _'not Beckett'_. The extravagant jewellery that's much flashier than what he's know her to wear, the way her make up is slightly heavier than usual, and the fact that her dress has been hiked up even shorter. And he'd know _that_ for a fact, what with the image of her at his Heat Wave book launch party engraved on his brain.

He moves over towards the couch, sitting down on the white cushions as he motions for her to have a seat on one of the arm chairs opposite. She hesitates, chewing on her lip, before taking small steps over towards the couch area, leaning against the armrest rather than taking a seat, but at least allowing herself to willingly be closer to him.

They stay there, stuck in an awkward silence for a few moments as he tries to figure out what to say, what could break the tension between them and allow for some of the light banter that they're so accustomed to. Anything that will get Beckett to stop looking like she's mad with him, like something a lot deeper than just this case is causing her to react to him like this.

" _So,"_ he clears his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as her head snaps up at the sound of his voice. "You're a prostitute."

Beckett's jaw drops open, and she stares at him, looking affronted. "Castle-"

"Because, by the way, this look is totally doing it for me, Beckett."

She huffs, narrowing her eyes at him, but he can see the softened crease of her brows, the way her eyes are sparkling playfully at him now.

"For your information," she says, quirking an eyebrow at him as she shifts on the arm rest, crossing her impossibly long legs over as she gets comfortable. "I am undercover as a high end escort."

He smirks, shrugging his jacket off and dumping it on the back of the couch as he loosens his tie, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Beckett watching him, blushing slightly, and the smirk only deepens. "So you're a prostitute for rich people?"

"What part of _undercover,_ do you not understand?"

"The part where I can't help you out," he tells her, shrugging as she heaves out a heavy breath, her shoulders sagging as she deflates before him. "I mean, I _am_ rich. It's entirely plausible that I would hire you." At her glare, he quickly tracks back and revises his statement. "Undercover," he stumbles. "Hire the undercover-you, not _you_ -you _."_

"Castle," she says, voice more subdued and calm now, sounding resigned and tired to his ears. "I really don't think you've thought about the consequences of this."

His eyes shift, looking to the side for a second to collect his thoughts, run through his brain to try and decipher what she means. She looks at him expectantly, stretching her legs out, and he's at once distracted by the bare length of them, brain numbing as his gaze starts to drift downwards slightly.

"Hey," her fingers snap in his face, drawing him out of his stupor and forcing him back to reality, and he looks up to see Beckett waving a hand and glaring at him. She's gotten up, and is standing much closer now, near enough to him that he can smell the subtle scent of cherries clinging to her, bringing back memories of another time, seemingly so long ago now, when he'd been tempted to kiss her right there in the precinct. "Do you mind?"

He blinks dumbly at her, jaw hanging open as he searches for a valid excuse for ogling her. Oh what the hell, she knows him well enough that she expects this sort of thing. "Uhh, sorry."

The eye roll she gives him in response is so familiar that he can't fight the jovial smile from lighting up his face. He really has missed her.

And he knows that he wants in on this case. Not only would it be great research for Naked Heat, but he'd also have a valid excuse for following Beckett around again. Besides, Detective Demming won't be around to rub their relationship in his face.

"Look, Beckett," he starts, pushing himself to stand up and face her. She takes a couple of steps back, looking up at him with a kind of longing that confuses him slightly, especially if she's as happy as he's presumed she's been with Demming this summer. "Just let me help. If I pretend to hire you, then that not only gives Espo a chance to work on the investigation rather than being undercover, but it'll make everything more deeply covert because I'm not a cop."

She sighs, biting the inside of her cheek as her lips purse, coated in a rosy red that makes him want to tilt down and capture the colour on his own. Taking another step forward, he reaches a hand out, gently cupping her elbow, and she flinches slightly, but she doesn't pull away.

"You haven't thought this through very well, have you?" she whispers, shaking her head slowly as he feels the goose bumps rise on her arms.

He tilts his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

There's a burst of noise down the hallway, and he spins around at the sound of a key turning in the front door lock before the hinges squeak slightly.

"Richard?" Gina.

 _Oh._

 _Oh shit._

Beckett is streaking past him before he can get another word out, all bouncing curls and electric blue as she strides towards the front door, passing his ex-wife and _current girlfriend_ with a polite nod of greeting.

He hurries after her, catching Gina by the shoulders when he accidentally stumbles into her in his haste to catch up with his detective.

"Rick, what is going on?" Gina asks him, clinging to the material of his shirt, trying to pull him down towards her. He sometimes forgets how much smaller than him she is. "You disappeared from the party and I've been looking-"

"Hold that thought," he tells her through a strained smile, releasing her grip on him as he detangles himself and rushes through the swinging front door, following Beckett into the night.

She's already down off the porch, and he can hear the crunch of gravel beneath the heels of her shoes as she stalks down the drive way, her arm reaching into the clutch that she must have left next to the door, pulling out a phone as she lifts it to her ear.

"Beckett, wait!" he calls to her, rushing down the steps as he runs to catch up with the detective before she calls the boys and gets them to come and pick her up from where they're waiting down the street. He needs to explain himself first.

She grinds to a halt just in front of him, and he has to steady himself to stop in time so he doesn't go barrelling into her. When she spins around on the spot, he's disappointed to realise that she's just hung up.

"Go back inside, Castle."

"No, not until I know what the _hell_ is up with you right now."

Her lips are fixed in an angry purse as she glances up to him, a scarlet blush tainting her cheeks that doesn't go unnoticed by him. "What 'is up' with me is the fact that you are once again trying to weasel your way into my life, without regard for anyone but yourself."

Indignation flares up angrily inside his chest as he waves his arms at her. "That's not true."

"Really?" she scoffs, planting a hand on her hip. "Because you almost blew my entire cover tonight trying to get yourself onto this case, and by doing so, you've potentially jeopardized your relationship with your publisher. What's she going to think when she finds out that you tried to hire some extra company?"

Castle just stares at her, letting the words and the truth they hold settle over him. Beckett's right. This isn't fair to Gina, and it certainly isn't fair to the victims if he manages to screw this up and let this dirt bag get away.

He finds himself shrugging helplessly, hanging his head as the bite of cool night air starts to prick at his skin, slide through his mussed up hair. "I just wanted to help."

Beckett sighs, and he glances back up at her to meet the green eyes staring at him when he hears the rustle of a car coming up the drive way.

"I know," she says, her voice soft and somewhat melancholic as she sends him a sad tilt of her lips "But you left to get away from the city, Castle. So go back to your Hamptons, your ex-wife, your book parties. That's what you wanted, after all."

He stands there dumbly, watching as she climbs into the car the boys are driving without another glance in his direction. Sending a quick wave to Esposito and Ryan, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts and try to process the night's events before heading back inside to face the music with Gina.

Beckett is _here,_ in the Hamptons, working undercover for what appears to be a very important case. She hadn't mentioned Demming, but he isn't naïve enough to think that means he's not waiting patiently for his extraordinary girlfriend to return to the city. But still, something had seemed… _off_ with her, and he has a feeling that it hasn't got anything to do with the cover.

He needs to sort out his head, get his thoughts in line and not get hung up about all this. After all, he has a beautiful girlfriend waiting for him inside, one he needs to apologise to for forgetting their relationship during his temporary amnesia when he attempted to hire 'Prostitute Beckett."

After taking a few more moments to just breathe in the night air and clear his Kate Beckett fogged mind, he turns towards the house, staring up at the large arching roof and the glean of the windows in the moonlight. He trudges forward, hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

He has some explaining to do.

* * *

"You did _what?!"_

Castle winces, leaning to his left slightly as Gina throws her arms about, waving wildly at him as she paces back and forth, her party heels tapping on the floor with exaggerated force against the wood.

He didn't expect his girlfriend to be pleased that he tried to hire an escort, even if said escort was really Beckett undercover, so he should be thankful that she hasn't stormed out on him yet.

"How could you be so stupid, Rick?" she exhales heavily, coming to a halt with a little stomp that he usually finds cute. Not when she's genuinely mad at him though.

"Look," he starts, voice hesitant and low as he walks over to her, places both hands on her forearms. "I'm sorry. I really am sorry. What I did was thoughtless, and I apologise for it."

Gina sighs, and he feels the tension melt out of her as she tilts into him, a small frown on her face He brushes his thumbs soothingly against her skin, leaning down a little before he speaks next, wanting to put them on slightly more even footing. "Gina, I really want to help with this case."

His ex-wife huffs, immediately fired up again as she pulls away from him and out of his tentative grip. Backing away, she folds her arms tightly against her chest as she glares at him.

It seems he's doing very well at pissing off women he cares about today.

"No, seriously," he babbles, trying to help her understand, trying to make her realise that he _needs_ to be on this case with Beckett. "It will help with my writing, and you know that I've been struggling to shake up this next Nikki Heat book, and this will give me the perfect opportunity to do some first-hand research."

"Rick, you've been doing first hand research for a _year,"_ she says, clearly exasperated with him. "Surely that's been enough?"

 _No, it'll never be enough. Not with her._

"But that wasn't a big undercover operation like this, was it?" he explains, his enthusiasm leaking out of him as he practically springs closer to her. "Come on, Gina. When else would I get this kind of opportunity?"

Gina studies him, her brown eyes tracing over the lines of his face carefully. "So you're going to pretend to be having an affair?"

He staggers back a step, catching himself against the side table his thigh bumped into.

Well, crap. He hadn't really thought about it quite like that.

"I, uh…"

She waves a hand at him, the bangles on her wrist bumping together with a metallic chime as she rubs her temple.

"Well at least if you're caught it will help boost book sales," she says.

He blanks, staring at her for a few moments before his brain catches up to her words. "What?"

"Your public persona has been slacking quite a bit as of late," she explains, and the tone of her voice, a little harder and more pronounced, tells him that she's slipped into 'publisher mode'. "And your playboy antics always guarantee more book sales, so I guess it couldn't hurt if the press do find out."

He's pretty sure his eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline, the surprise at her apparent agreement written all over his face.

"Wait, so you're okay with this?" he asks doubtfully, not quite believing that his girlfriend is fine with him pretending to have an affair while being in the public eye. "You don't mind if I'm part of Beckett's cover?"

Gina looks up at him, eyes slightly pinched as she rubs her lips together, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"Just…" she starts, before darting her eyes to somewhere over his shoulder for a brief moment. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

He knows he's grinning like an overenthusiastic child, but he can't contain his excitement as he darts forward, giving his girlfriend a quick peck on the lips before he rushes upstairs to his office, more than ready to start working on a game plan for this.

But, first thing's first. He needs to convince Beckett that he'll be the perfect gentlemen to hire her services.

* * *

The next morning, Castle pulls himself out of bed at the flash of summer sun flitting through the drapes, stumbling downstairs for a drink of coffee before grabbing a bagel and heading out the door.

He left Gina asleep next to him, not wanting to rattle the tiger's cage and anger her any more when she hears of his plans for today, and instead he makes his way down the porch steps, a jovial hop to his gait as he reaches the end of the canopy's shadow and is immediately bathed in the warmth of daybreak.

Lifting his head to the sky, he slides his hands into his pockets, letting the rough denim rub against them as he soaks up the rays of heat, the light reflecting off his sunglasses in glints. He always relishes the leisurely stroll down from his summer house to the local town, only twenty minutes or so away, and he hasn't had much time to just _enjoy_ the gorgeous scenery after being cooped up writing for most of the summer as per his well-meaning publisher's request.

Tones of green and blue surround him as he walks, the colours of nature and calm adding to the serenity of the neighbourhood out here. Shows of affluence from the proud displays of extravagant houses all around are effortlessly undermined by the natural woodlands and foliage around them, herds of deer weaving in and out of trees as they graze, and the sun skimming through the leaves in speckled patterns that he can't imagine seeing anywhere else in the city.

He eventually comes to the edge of the island, the crunch of gravel and hard dirt softening to pliant sand beneath his feet. Taking himself to the water's edge for the rest of his journey, Castle breathes in the salty sea air as it ruffles the strands of his hair in a warm breeze that he opens himself up to gladly.

The town peaks up from over the stone walkway that leads down to the beach front, and he climbs up, kicking the heel of his shoe against the wall to shake off the sand clinging to him.

He knows the bar he's looking for will be near the outskirts of the town, away from prying eyes and surreptitiously out of the rush of residents and tourists having days out. The only reason he knows of its existence altogether is through word of mouth. Okay, and he may have visited one of the bars next door when he was younger, catching a glimpse of too dressed up women clinging onto the arms of men he recognised from around town, men who were definitely _married_.

If there's anything sketchy going on that Beckett would be investigating, he's certain that this will be the place.

Finding the building he's looking for, towards an empty corner of the town and shielded in by the surrounding trees, he cautiously moves closer. Upon inspection, the bricks look mildly worn, but still expensive enough to fit in around here, and the bland look of a few small blacked out windows and one glowing sign, not yet turned on, outside, make it slot in with the higher end buildings nearby.

He can hear the steady pump of music from inside, some techno beat that he vaguely remembers Alexis blaring from her bedroom a few times. Looking around the front, he can't see any obvious way of getting inside, so instead heads down the narrow alleyway on the right side.

It's hidden by two tall walls, both covered in grime he'd rather not inspect too closely, and he finds himself unconsciously wiping his hands on his jeans before pushing the sleeves of his shirt further up his elbows. Following the heavy sound of base into the dark, he sees the flash of rapid changing colour reflecting on an open door.

His senses are overwhelmed when he steps inside, the glaring overhead lights blinding him into shielding his eyes with one hand, feeling around for the handrail on the wall with his other. When his eyes adjust enough, he notices a few other patrons sitting around at the random tables dotted near the dance floor, where a number of peoples are moving to the music.

Narrowing his eyes to try and see better, he slips into a seat to get a better view of the club. The beat of the music is pulsing heavily through his ears, hitting the drums rhythmically and drowning out any other sound.

Can Beckett really be here?

Scanning the room over again, more carefully this time, he receives his answer when his gaze lands on two long legs that could belong to no one other than the detective. A grin splits his face as he follows the luscious skin up to find Beckett, wrapped in a white dress that silhouettes against the flash of bright lights, her heels so high that he can see the large arch of the shoes as she walks down the bar, holding a tray of glasses in one hand.

He finds himself chuckling.

 _Huh. So apparently she was a waitress once._

Her hips sway in time to the music booming around them, the sensuous curve of her body hypnotising him as she bends down, a little further than necessary, to collect empty glasses from tables.

He follows the gorgeous curved lines of her as she moves from patron to patron, almost dancing in the rhythmic way she's moving to the songs playing overhead. As much as he's enjoying it, he can't help the scowl growing on his face from the way he notices each of the men she's serving lean into her, shadowed hands inching a little too close to the swell of her breasts in that figure hugging dress as she picks up their glasses.

It baffles him slightly, the way she refuses to react, how she doesn't show any part of Kate Beckett, the homicide detective who would kick a man's ass into the middle of next week if he so much as spoke down to her. He suddenly has a new found respect for this undercover operation of hers, how she manages to slip into these newly assumed personas at the blink of an eye.

It makes him wonder how many times she's done this before. Didn't she mention something about vice? The thought that she's been exposed to this kind of sleazy world before makes his heart sink inside the cavern of his chest.

"I see she's definitely caught your eye."

Castle startles at the slippery sound of the voice belonging to the same man from last night, the one who seemed eager for Beckett, no… _Houghton,_ to be available for his 'service'. Twisting around in his seat, he can make out the blurred image of that very guy, lingering on the outlines of his club, observing those who think they're the ones doing the watching here. He's handsome and reeks of business in his expensive suit and uptight posture, not at all the kind of guy you'd expect to be a pimp.

"You know," he starts, shifting his line of sight to follow where Beckett is now heading straight towards his table. "I can figure out a more permanent arrangement for you. She is quite the beauty."

Beckett looks up at the same moment the lights flash over her in a burst of green, and she stumbles slightly, the tray tilting as the glasses knock together when she spots him. She looks like an animal captured in a spotlight, terrified and caught out, but judging by the growing pinch to her brows, he's quite certain she's pissed as well.

"Yeah," he swallows thickly around his words as the detective starts storming closer. "She certainly is."

Oh boy, is he in trouble.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for the overwhelming response and all the lovely reviews I received for the first chapter of this fic! I really appreciate everyone taking the time to read and comment, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too._

 _Thank you so much for reading and I would love to know what you think!_

 ** _Twitter: dappledshadows_**

 ** _Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

* * *

"But Sir-"

" _Beckett, I know how you feel, but having Castle involved in your cover will help provide you with more opportunities for information, as well as the likelihood of attempted blackmail due to his celebrity status."_

"I understand that, Sir, but I already have a plan in place and I don't want-"

" _What_ I _want is for you to stop letting your personal life affect this investigation. You have my orders, Beckett."_

The dial tone drums its monotone in her ear, and she remains still for a moment, mouth agape as she tries to mentally process what just happened.

The midday sun is sweltering against the exposed skin of her back, and she pushes herself off the railing she's leaning against now the beams are too hot on her forearms. Once she'd spotted Castle watching her from the dark corner of the club, she'd rushed over, not seeing Bruce already talking to him. The arrangements had already been made (consent isn't exactly a concern in places like this) and now she's been ordered out with her new 'client'. She fumed in silence the whole way until they reached a part of the beach front far enough from the club that she could call her captain.

It looks like she won't be getting any back up from him though.

She drops her head in her hands, allowing the muffled groan that's been building up to escape into the wall of her palms. This is a disaster. She never signed up for this.

She had agreed this assignment in order to distract herself from the empty feeling she gets walking into work every day now, from the way she half expects her annoying writer to perk up and finish her sentences and bounce off her theories.

No.

Not her writer. _Never_ her writer.

Castle's moping on a bench further down the stone walkway, thankfully having interpreted her pointed glare correctly as she silently asked for a moment alone to call her captain. She'd hoped he would agree that having a civilian undercover, even if it is Castle, would be a bad idea, but instead he'd jumped at the opportunity. Rationally, she knows that having someone as high profile as Castle involved would open up the opportunity to catch Bruce on blackmail charges when he inevitably asks her to obtain proof of an affair, but that doesn't mean she has to be happy about it.

Because she's not. At all.

The chill of the slight breeze raises goose pimples on her arms, and Beckett's suddenly all too aware of how exposed she is right now. The white halter neck dress she's wearing wraps around her upper torso with a skirt that only flares down to her mid-thighs.

She's not used to wearing this kind of thing while on the job as Kate Beckett, and it's difficult to get into Houghton's mind frame when she's constantly being thrown off by her old partner's presence.

"Do you want my jacket?"

She spins around, careful not to stumble in her heels, at the sound of the deep, hesitant rumble behind her.

Castle stands there, looking cautious and not quite meeting her eyes as he shrugs out of the light blue button down shirt he's wearing open over his darker t-shirt. "Well, it's not exactly a jacket, but I'm not cold."

 _Neither am I_ waits on the tip of her tongue, the refusal to accept his offer fighting for release as her mind bubbles in protest, but she can feel the pinpricked raise of bumps on her skin where her arms have crossed over in an effort to get warmer.

"Uh, thanks," she mutters, unfolding them stiffly as she reaches out for his peace offering, quickly shrugging the oversized material on over her shoulders. It's only when she glances back up that she realises this leaves him in nothing more than his t-shirt now, the material pulling tight across his chest in a way that has her gaze quickly averting with a blush.

They stand there as the awkward silence drifts around them, Castle shuffling his feet uncomfortably and she pulls the material of his shirt tighter around her shoulders. When did things get like this with them? When did they lose the easy banter between them and instead replace it with the tension that settles over them now?

 _When he asked his ex-wife to the Hamptons and left you._

"So," Castle starts, interrupting her thoughts as he shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, rising up in a little rock that makes him look like a shy school boy, his hair wind-ruffled and cheeks red with sea air. "What did Montgomery say?"

"That I'm being ordered to allow you on this investigation," she glares at him, voice tights as she takes a step closer towards him, anger and frustration fuelling her all over again. "Congratulations, Castle. You've gotten your way. Just like you always do."

The last part is muttered under her breath, but she knows he still hears it when she turns and stalks away, only to hear him racing after her, a hand on her arm to convince her to stop.

"Hey," he says, and she feels the heat as his hand on her tightens slightly. "Beckett, just…just let me talk to you for a minute."

With a resigned sigh, she comes to a sudden halt, heels crunching on the loose pebbles that scatter the paved walkway just off the beach. Spinning around, she props her hands on her hips, ignoring the draping material of his shirt and her too short dress as she tries to inject some confidence and authority into her posture.

"Okay, Castle," she says, chewing the inside of her cheek to try to stem any more rising tension within her. "Talk."

He stands before her, looking slightly thrown off now that she's allowing him to explain himself, and she quirks an eyebrow as a cue to hurry up.

"Uh…right," he starts, and his stuttering is almost cute. If she found him cute, that is. "So, I just want to apologise-"

"For what?" she can't help but interrupt. "Leaving, or for showing up where you don't belong again?"

Castle just stares at her, eyes wide in a sea of cerulean blue as his jaw hangs open. The silent pause gives her a moment to reflect on what she's just said.

 _Leaving._

Crap, he's not supposed to know she's upset because of that.

When he moves forward again, throat working around the words he's about to speak, Beckett holds her hand up to stop him, not wanting to delve any more into the territory of her darker feelings, the ones she worked at mastering how to lock away. But instead he fixes her with a pointed look, palms raised in surrender.

"How about we go and get some lunch, and talk this through, okay?"

She takes a moment just to look at him, observe the hesitant optimism in the tilt of his body, the way his eyes dim to a darker blue the longer she leaves him waiting.

She's missed him. The ever faithful presence beside her as she tries to work through theories, the annoying itch that soon became a source of comfort.

The partner who saved her life when she was being hunted by a serial killer.

"Yeah, Castle," she nods, the fight seeping out of her as she bows her head on a resigned release of breath. "Let's get lunch."

* * *

He leads her to a quaint café on the beach front a little further down the coast. The red and white striped canopy and pretty little flower pots, lined up just outside and decorated with blooming azaleas in shades of blushed pink to a deeper crimson, give the place a friendly, welcoming vibe. The summer atmosphere has drawn him and Alexis here many times while they were off exploring the beach and looking for seashells when she was younger, so he knows it well.

Besides, it's cornered in by two little clothing boutiques that shield it from too many onlookers with the distraction of the latest fashions, so that's a bonus.

Really though, he just wants to share this place with Beckett. He wants her to feel more at ease around him again, try to find that effortless connection they'd had between them before.

Before he left.

That's another thing. He wants to know why she's so upset about that when she's clearly been off doing exciting things without him. With her goody-two shoes boyfriend Detective Demming.

In order to prevent himself from drowning in those negative thoughts again, he picks up his pace, taking longer, faster strides towards the cafe entrance. He pushes the door open with a little jingle from the overhead bell, and leans back against it to hold it open.

Beckett raises an eyebrow at him as she slips past, her body just barely brushing his and erupting thousands of sparks as if a circuit has just connected between them. He shrugs the feeling off, remembering his girlfriend, his very wonderful girlfriend, still waiting for him back at his summer house. Not to mention the fact Beckett is still involved with someone else. Someone who is _not him_.

He shakes himself.

"No 'thank you', Beckett?" he chuckles, trying to bring some lightness to the situation and at least get her to respond to him.

A flicker of a smile twitches at the corner of her lips.

"Chivalry will get you nowhere, Castle," she says, her voice breathy, before stepping further inside.

Okay. Not exactly the reaction he was hoping for, but at least it's something.

A teenaged waiter, a kid likely working his way through the summer, leads them both to a table by the window, their image thankfully still hidden from the glare of sunlight off the glass. It wouldn't do to have the locals gossiping already.

Beckett shuffles against the firm pillowing of her seat. The cushions are faded, with the sandy wood of the chairs and tables giving the place a homely, comforting feel, and the spread of photographs in mismatching frames decorating the walls only add to that. There are only a few other people in here too, all of them too engrossed in conversations or books to spare them a second glance.

Perfect.

A glance up shows Beckett scanning over the menu in front of her intently, but the emphasised crease in her brow, the way one hand is fiddling with the chocolate strand of hair twisting by her ear, tells him that it's for show. She's just as nervous about this as he is.

If that's the case, he may as well dive straight into it then.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, and her head snaps up at the words. "What I did was wrong. I never intended to hurt you or impact your case in any negative way, and I apologise."

Beckett's mouth opens and closes like a fish, jaw working to try and stutter something out in response. He'd find it funny if the swell of her lips weren't so damn distracting.

"You-you never _hurt_ me, Castle," she gets out, averting her gaze back down towards the menu lying flat on the table top. Her hair has gotten long enough to fall over her shoulders and shield her face from his view now. "I was just angry about the case."

His eyes narrow doubtfully. He knows there's something more to this story, or else she wouldn't have mentioned him leaving so many times, but he lets it drop. For now.

"Well, I'm sorry about the case then."

Her eyes flick up again, and he can see them meeting his through the strands of her hair.

"I thought we'd discussed last night why you getting involved is a bad idea."

Clearing his throat, he lowers himself down to lean on his elbows, surreptitiously moving closer towards her from his seat opposite as he pitches his voice down.

"Yes," he nods, watching the nails of one of her hands draw an invisible pattern on the surface of the wooden table. "And I spoke with Gina."

Beckett's head snaps up so suddenly at the sound of his ex-wife's name that he startles back in his seat.

"You spoke with her?"

"Uh, yes?" _Is this a trick question?_

"About my case? My highly dangerous and important _undercover_ case."

Oh.

He swallows thickly, averting his own eyes this time as he tries to justify his actions last night. These past couple of days have just _not_ been going his way.

"Maybe?" he shrugs meekly, a wince already preparing to form when he sees the fire in her eyes.

"You are _unbelievable_ ," she says, exasperated as she shakes her head at him, and he reaches a hand out on instinct, half expecting her to get up and storm out. She doesn't though, and instead just sits there and glares at him, leaving his hand suspended awkwardly in mid-air.

He shifts in his seat, moving his hand to pull at the neck of his t-shirt.

"I just wanted to help," he mumbles, his head bowing slightly. "And she's okay with it. She even thinks it would help book sales if I accidentally get caught."

Beckett's face scrunches up with incredulousness, her nose crinkling adorably. "She's okay with it because it'll help _boost_ _book sales?"_

His eyes shift to the left and then flick back to meet hers. "Uh… _yeah."_

Jaw dropping, she gapes at him, and he's suddenly confused by her reaction. "What?"

"She's okay for you to pretend to have an affair, because it increases your publicity."

Bricks of defensive walls start to build themselves up around him at her slightly patronising statement. He know how it sounds, he does. But it isn't like that.

"Gina is my publisher, Beckett," he tells her, voice low. "Which means she understands that she sometimes needs to put her business mind before her emotional needs. And I respect that about her."

Beckett blushes, looking thoroughly embarrassed as she tucks both hands under her chin, dipping her head down and hiding from him again.

He feels kind of bad for her, but he doesn't want her sympathising for him. Not when she isn't interested in any form of romantic relationship with him anyway. Who on earth is she to judge his choices?

Thankfully, the waiter comes to take their orders before the awkward silence gets too heavy, and it eases the thick tension around them enough that they both seem to have calmed slightly by the time he leaves to put the meal selections through.

"So," he starts, stretching his hands out in front of him as he searches for a way to bring this topic up delicately. "Seeing as you're so concerned what my girlfriend thinks of this," he gets a glare for that. "I can't imagine Demming is all too pleased that you're posing as a prostitute all the way up here while he's back in the city."

Her entire face blanks. Draining of colour, he watches her expression shift carefully neutral as she sits back against the solid spine of the chair.

"What I'm doing with my time is none of Demming's concern," she explains carefully, her voice empty and giving nothing away. But he knows there's something wrong here.

"Is it because it's a cop thing?" he shrugs, trying for a smile, but not bothering to force it when she doesn't respond. "Like, 'you go sell drugs undercover while I pretend to show this gentleman a good time'?"

His heart sinks a little when she closes the smoky lids of her eyes, a small sigh escaping her parted lips. There's pain in her expression, and he suddenly connects the dots through the synapses of his brain.

"We broke up," she confirms his suspicions, and he hate himself for the surge of glee that fires through his stomach. "Before the summer."

 _Before the summer._

"I'm sorry," he tells her, voice wiped of all teasing as he aches to reach across for her hand. He wishes he could take her smaller fingers in his own palm, rub soothing circles over her wrist with the pad of his thumb. "I didn't know."

She shrugs, her gaze darting away from him as she leans out of her seat to see towards the counter, where their waiter is arriving with their food. "I'm over it," she says noncommittally, but he knows her well enough to realise she's putting on a front to mask any lingering pain.

They're both presented with full plates of food and a luxuriously mouth-watering milk-shakes, and he can't help the grin splitting on his face at Beckett's wide-eyed awe at the sight.

He slides the sundae glass containing her strawberry milkshake over to her, the condensation cooling and satisfying to his warm palms, before tucking into his grilled sandwich. Beckett accepts his offering easily, grasping at the glass with two open palms before sucking down a huge gulp from the straw.

The sight has him clenching a fist under the table against the coarse denim of his jeans.

This is _Kate Beckett,_ for god's sake. Detective Kate Beckett sitting across from him in a café in the Hamptons, wearing a sundress with light blue swirls of stitching on the low cut halter neck, draped in the matching duck egg blue of his shirt. And what's more, she's undercover as a prostitute.

What a strange couple of days.

"Castle," he hears, snapping out of his lust-filled haze at her voice. "Quit staring and eat your food."

He stumbles out a quick apology, before taking hold of his sandwich and having a bite. Moaning in appreciation around the sizeable mouthful, he finds himself once again distracted by Beckett as she tears of pieces of her croissant, dipping each bite in strawberry jam before popping it into her mouth. Her tongue peeks out to lick her lips every other mouthful, and he can't bring himself to look away until she nudges him with her foot under the table.

For one delirious moment, he thinks she's trying to play 'footsie' with him, when a stronger kick to his calf has him snapping out of his stupor.

"So the case," Beckett begins casually, wiping her fingers on the edge of her napkin before reaching for her milkshake again. "How much do you know about it?"

Blinking, he has to search his mind for shamefully longer than necessary to get his mind back on track, rather than the feel of her long legs stroking against the skin of his under that table.

"Right. Case," he stumbles out, and he ignores her eye roll in favour of thinking back to what she said last night. "Serial murders? Of escort girls, and you think they were committed by their pimp, which is why you're undercover now. To find out more."

"Each girl was drugged and had her throat slit," Beckett explains bluntly, and he blinks against the gory details. "Left to die alone in alleyways around the clubs, so you understand why it's so important to catch this guy."

A strange churning sensation in his gut pulls him to notice his lingering unease with this entire situation, and he can't help but voice it.

"But…what if this puts _you_ in danger, Beckett?"

She waves him off flippantly, swiping a finger on her other hand against her plate to pick up the flakes of pastry crumbing the surface. "That's not important, Castle."

" _Not important?"_ he says, bewilderment making his voice rise enough to catch the attention of some of the other customers. Ignoring the glare Beckett throws him, he tries to make a conscious effort to keep it down again. "What the hell are you talking about? You can't just shrug this off like it wouldn't matter if something happened to you."

"I know the risks, Castle," she snaps at him, eyes hard as she shoots through the layers of his skin with her glowering look. "I'm a _cop,_ for God's sake. But it is my job to get justice for these women, and if this is the only way to do so, then I am willing to accept the dangers that come with it."

He fights for words to throw back at her, some way to explain how putting her life at risk isn't going to help anyone, but he knows the effort is futile. If there is one thing he's learned about Kate Beckett, it's that she will never back down from her quest for justice.

"But you," she continues, and he lifts his head in response to the call of her voice. "Are not a cop. And it's for that very reason I am worried about you doing this with me."

Scanning his eyes over her face, he notices how her features have softened. How the swirling colour of her eyes watch him gently, and he can finally read the concern there.

She's worried about him.

"Beckett," he says, leaning closer as he presses his elbows against the table, the bones hard against the sun-warmed wood. "I know I left you. But I still know enough to be your partner here. Let me help you."

Swallowing thickly, she drops her lashes and studies the swirling patterns on the surface of the table, her fingers twisting the red napkin in front of her. Eventually, she lets her head bounce in a small nod, blinking her eyes back up at him.

"Okay," she says, the words coming out on an exhale as she steals the breath he's holding. "I'm not happy about it, but okay."

* * *

Things thankfully ease up a little between them after her begrudging acceptance of his help on the case. They each order another milkshake when their empty plates are cleaned away, and the two of them work to find that comfortable back and forth they had excelled at only mere months ago.

As frustrated and downright _annoyed_ as she is with this entire situation at the moment, Beckett can't help the flood of warmth seeping through her veins at finally spending time with him again. She hates it, of course, and hates that she can't control these feelings of joy he always manages to drag from her, but she's emotionally worn down enough right now that she just doesn't care.

For the moment at least. She can punish herself for indulging later.

Castle eventually just leaps into a tale about Alexis and updates her on how the girl's getting on at her Princeton summer programme, the enthusiasm over discussing his daughter leaking from his beaming smile. She loves it, the joy that engulfs him every time Alexis's name is so much as mentioned, but she can't resist teasing him a little bit.

"One time in high school I went on a weekend trip with friends to look at colleges," she starts, trying to keep her voice even as his eyes flick up to her with interest. She doesn't continue until he picks up his glass to take another sip of his shake. "We ended up tagging along with some students there, and we got so drunk we ended up skinny dipping in the campus fountain."

She times it just perfectly and Castle splutters on his mouthful of chocolate shake, eyes flying to hers wildly as he swiftly presses his napkin to his lips to minimise the damage.

A delighted laugh escapes her lips without her consent, and a few moments later she's hunched over in her seat as she wraps her arms around her stomach, trying to ease the spasms of giggling.

"What?" Castle gapes, sucking in a breath as he tries to speak again. "No, Alexis would never… You did _what,_ Beckett?"

It takes her a few moments to gasp in enough air to get out a sentence, wiping the tear leaking from the corner of one eye. "I'm just kidding, Castle."

The writer's eyes close on a heavy breath, and his shoulder sag as he slumps back against his seat in relief.

"That was just mean."

She can't resist another chuckle as she swipes her pointer finger underneath her eye, searching for smudged make up as she attempts to compose herself a little. There's no use denying that she's missed teasing him these past few months.

Savouring the last few glorious sips of her strawberry shake, the waiter eventually gives them their bill. Indignation fuels through her when he waves off her attempts to pay, and she's about to bite back a comment explaining how she can pay for herself, when she realises that she doesn't even her wallet with her right now.

Great.

They linger outside the café for a few awkward moments once they leave, neither knowing what exactly to say, when Castle offers to walk her back to the safe house she's sharing with Ryan and Esposito at the moment.

"It's okay," she shakes her head, kicking herself mentally for feeling bad when his face falls just enough for her to realise his disappointment. It's not like he's going home to wallow in an empty house, after all. "It's not far from here, and I kind of want to clear my head."

He nods, accepting that answer gracefully. "Yeah, alright. But…you'll call me tomorrow?"

Oh.

This is something they're actually going to have to do now, isn't it?

So much for staying away from all thoughts of him this summer.

"Uhh, sure, Castle," she stutters, thrown off by the question as she tucks a wayward curl behind her ear. "I'll let you know what the plan is."

"Great," he smiles, and she thinks she can sense a bit of relief in the way his shoulders lose some of their pent up tension. "Thank you. For joining me today. I know this isn't exactly what you had planned."

She feels the teasing smirk sliding onto her lips before she even gets the words out.

"No problem, Mr Castle," she says, dropping her voice. "I'm here to be of service, after all."

With that, she spins on her heel, leaving him awestruck as he stares after her retreating form, and she heads down the beach.

The stretch of sand alongside the safe house is startlingly empty as she walks along it. She's long abandoned her heels in favour of carrying them, instead wanting to feel the warmth of sand brushing against her feet and between her toes.

The water is still. No boats or wind to roll the waves over to the shore, and instead it sits, silent and calming with only the slight slosh being heard now and again from a bird landing on the surface and disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.

Beckett hums in appreciation for it all, throwing her head back as she steps lazily over the banks of sand, in no rush to get back to the house. She lets her face bask in the heat of midday sun, the slight cloudiness of the sky keeping the air just cool enough to be bearable. She wishes she could be here all the time.

Under much better circumstances, of course.

Her toes hit the bed of pebbles scattering up from the shore, and the scratching crunch as her feet step over them startles her ears, the sound overwhelming and out of place when surrounded by so much quiet.

A couple of the stones, all made up of varying shapes and sizes, are covered in tiny purple shells. Her closer inspection makes her realise that they're sea snails, sleeping in the green moss bedding the pebbles, and she finds herself launching one of the pebbles into the air with a slight whistle. It lands with a loud _splash_ into the sea, and Beckett watches the ripples vibrate outwards and disturb the peace, the resting seagull flying away at the sound.

It's crazy how just one change has the power to create such chaos in its surroundings.

Beckett chuckles self-deprecatingly at that thought.

 _I guess the same can be said about Castle._

Throwing himself into this and turning everything up on its head as a result.

Sighing, she wraps her arms around herself, heels still in one hand, and keeps on walking. She trudges through the hills of sand and pebbles, wincing at the slight scratches to her feet, until she can see the house up ahead.

It's sheltered by a groups of trees around the sides and the back. A small walkway connects it to the beach, but the overgrown shrubs around it make it difficult to find unless someone is looking for it specifically.

Even though she has to share with the boys, it's a pretty nice safe house. As far as safe houses go, that is.

Not quite ready to go inside and face the inevitable questions from Ryan and Espo, she flops down to sit on the sand, running the grains through her fingers as she settles back. Tucking her dress underneath her, she pulls her knees up, resting one cheek on them as she closes her eyes.

She listens to the silence around her. Taking in the quiet roll of the ocean swaying, and the slight rush of breeze as it brushes her hair back off her face. Releasing a heavy sigh, she just lets down the protective barriers of her mind and prepares for the rush of thoughts swirling in her head.

Oh gosh. What is she going to _do?_

This is Castle.

 _Rick Castle,_ who left her alone and ran off up here to shack up with his ex-wife when she was finally about to confess her feelings for him.

Not that she has feelings any more. Nope. Nada. No way.

She's spent the summer so far working herself ragged to ward off any thoughts of him. Taking late shifts, arriving earlier and earlier every day just because she hasn't been sleeping well.

She's taken to sleeping on the breakroom couch just because she hates the empty feeling of her sublet that isn't and will never be a home to her.

The boys and Lanie are worried about her. She knows that. But she's okay.

Well…she's dealing with it.

She'd given herself one night. One night to cry and purge all of those useless feelings out once he left, and then the next morning, she stepped into her highest heels, and walked into the twelfth exuding confidence and pride. Not one trace of the broken girl crying against the front door she'd collapsed against in a fit of sobs the night before.

Shaking her head, she pulls herself off the sand and away from her memories as she starts for the path to the safe house.

Yes, this is going to suck. He hurt her, but he didn't realise. And she's grown stronger for it and has a layered protection of walls to prevent her from making the same mistake again.

She can do this.

No feelings. Nothing.

It's all pretend.

With one last glance towards the soothing lull of the steady ocean, she turns and heads up the path.

It's only when she's inside, and she tugs the material tighter around her shoulders in response to the chill of the air-conditioning, that she realises she still has Castle's shirt on.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you all so much for the continuing support and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

* * *

Castle inches up the sandy stone stairs leading to the detective's safe house the next day, hesitance in his steps as he pushes himself upwards and tries to hold off the nerves itching away at him. He shoves his hands inside his pockets when he reaches the front porch.

The little house is peeling with pale blue and white paint, the double doors to the entrance screened over to prevent bugs and other unwanted critters from getting inside.

He raises one fist to give it a rap with his knuckles, and takes a step back. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he suddenly realises that he's a lot tenser than he first thought, the lingering strain from yesterday still clinging onto his skin.

Although he'd given Beckett a call earlier, explaining that he'd be coming over just before lunch and could he have the address, she'd seemed somewhat distracted. Esposito's voice was mumbling in the background, and Beckett almost seemed to be having a conversation with both of them, more focused on the case than him at that moment.

So, yeah. He's a little nervous.

A low creak alerts him to someone opening the door an inch, and a rush of warmth fills him when Beckett's head pokes out.

Her hair is pretty ruffled, tied up in a messy bun that looks like it's been thrown up at the last minute, and he can see the stretch to her jaw as she tries to stifle a yawn.

It's adorable.

"Late night working?" he tilts his head in greeting, sending her a lopsided smile as she gives in and eventually just yawns.

"Uh, yeah," she nods, wincing slightly as she rubs a curled fist over one eye. "Case work. Trying to make sure the plan is solid and everything."

He forgets sometimes. Forgets that there is always more work to being a detective than simply chasing down killers and going undercover. The exciting stuff he gets to join in with is nothing compared to the hard hours of work these guys do.

At least he'll be able to give her a bit of a treat now, but he's a little worried she's too tired.

"You know," he starts, voice sincere to convey his understanding. "If you're not up to it, I completely-"

"No, Castle," she interrupts, shaking her head with a slight smile. "It's okay. I'm fine, and we need to make this convincing while the guys keep working here."

Relief from her words fill him up, and he finds himself energised with the excitement suddenly, bouncing on his toes in eagerness.

"Great," he grins, clapping his palms together while he backs away from the door slightly. "I uh, actually have something planned for today. Something that'll hopefully make this a little more enjoyable for you if you need to be stuck with me all day."

She visibly softens before him, resting her head against the door frame as her shoulders sag

"Castle," she says, voice gentle as it's carried across on the surrounding breeze to brush his cheek. "Spending time with you isn't unenjoyable. It's just…it's just a little, w _eird,_ right now."

"Yeah, I get it," he reassures her, sifting a hand through his hair. "But I still want to make this a cool experience for you. But you're going to need to change."

Her eyes shift in question. "Change into what?"

He opens his mouth before his brain catches up with him, catching himself at the last second as he chokes around the words working their way up his throat.

"Uh," he tries again, lowering his hand slightly to rub at the back of his neck. "A…bathing suit."

Beckett raises one eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly amused as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"A bathing suit, huh?"

"I-I mean," he stumbles, mentally cursing himself for his lack of preparation. Of course Beckett would take the opportunity to make this as awkward as possible for him. "I just thought that would be best. Considering the circumstances."

"The circumstances of me pretending to be an escort?"

" _No,"_ he startles out, shaking his head vehemently. "I mean, _yes,_ but not only that. I was going to take you on my sail boat."

The words come out in a shy murmur, and he suddenly feels ridiculous about the entire idea. What use is going out to sea if no one will see them? That's the whole point of this undercover affair, right?

His inner ramblings mean that his misses the light shining up in Beckett's eyes as she pushes herself off the doorframe, and he only notices the excitement dripping from her smile when he looks back up again.

"Really?" she exclaims, before stuttering and catching herself. "You, you have a sailboat? I didn't know you could sail."

Shrugging half-heartedly, he lifts his shoulders up to bracket his ears.

"I only learned recently. I thought it would be something to share with Alexis."

"And have you?"

"Oh, definitely," he smiles at the memories of the young redhead, his baby bird now preparing to leave the nest all too quickly. "She loves it. If she weren't doing the Princeton Summer Programme this year, she'd be begging me to take her out on it."

Beckett observes him for a moment. Letting her eyes rake over him, he manages to stem the instinctive need to squirm under her gaze as she watches him, searching for something he isn't quite sure of.

"Is something wrong?"

She sighs, glancing down with a sudden interest in the wood of the porch floor.

"I'm just worried that this is going to cause you hassle with the press."

He finds himself furrowing his brows at her words. "What do you mean?"

Beckett sighs, shifting her shoulder against the wall again as she tucks a stray tendril that's escaped her bun back behind her ear.

"If people see us out in public together. They all believe I'm an escort, remember? I don't want anyone to think this is for real and that you're having an affair."

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he shifts his feet slightly, understanding dawning on him. She's right. This could all get a little messy in they're not careful.

"Okay, you have a point," he tells her. "But there will only be people around on the docks. Once we're out in the ocean, I'll just sail over to the body of water by my stretch of private beach. No one should see us there."

She squints at him in amusement.

"Why doesn't it surprise me that you have a section of private beach?"

He ignores her mumbled teasing, instead sending her a hopeful smile.

"So, is that a yes?"

Rolling her eyes, she gives him a decisive nod in agreement.

"Okay," she nods, sinking her teeth lightly into her lower lip. "Just give me a few minutes to change. If I have to dress like a prostitute I may as well take the opportunity to sunbathe."

* * *

He's mesmerised.

Completely awestruck by the sight before him.

He always knew that the sight of Beckett in a swimsuit would imprint things on his brain he would never be able to get over, but for some stupid reason he just didn't think the reality would get to him quite so much.

He manages to drag his eyes away from the svelte curve of her legs for long enough to pull up at the docks, but the second they're out of the car, his eyes are drawn back to the bare skin immediately.

Going with the 'hired escort' idea, Beckett has of course opted to wear a dark grey two piece, covered by a white lace kimono that she has shrugged over her shoulders.

Well, ' _covered'_ might not be the right word exactly.

They scuff their shoes across the loose stones littering the ground until they reach the edge of the dock. The boats are all lined up, attached to buoys further out in the water, so they have to take one of the small row boats out in order to get access to his boat.

Beckett carries the picnic basket he's packed full of snacks and refreshments, sitting it on her lap as he tries to row them out into the further waters. It's cramped inside, and pretty unstable, so the two of them stay perfectly still in order to prevent the boat tipping.

He certainly doesn't miss Beckett's lingering gaze on his arms as he's rowing, however.

Once he's brought them near enough to the dock of his sail boat, Castle pulls himself up and over the side, taking the basket from Beckett before reaching down to help her up.

Gritting his teeth against the heat of their contact, he pulls the detective up after him, steadying her with a hand to her waist when she stumbles at the sway of the boat. He releases her immediately, not being able to handle the temptation of her skin. He has a girlfriend after all. He shouldn't even be thinking like this.

Beckett takes a seat while he prepares the sails, climbing on top of the cabin as he unties the knots of string to release them. He finds himself struggling with one stubborn knot a bit, and Beckett offers to help, but he shakes off her attempts. If there's anything that's going to make him look like a fool in front of Kate Beckett, he refuses to let it be knots.

Eventually, after several curses and his eventual relenting to allow Beckett to help, they get going. Setting off sail towards his own dock on the beach outside his house, he allows the cool sea breeze to whip the hair back from his face, and he breathes it all in gleefully.

"I've never been on a sailboat before," he hears Beckett mumble over from where she's leaning against the side. Resting her chin on her crossed arms, she leans over the edge of the boat, eyes marvelling in the vast blue of the water they pass.

"What do you think of it?" he asks, pulling the tiller towards him a little to steer the boat slightly to the left to pick up a little more speed on the wind.

Beckett shrugs, turning around in her seat to face him and adjusting her shades slightly.

Jeez, how has she managed to hide all this perfect creamy skin from him underneath all those sweaters and heavy scarves this past year?

"It seems kind of…complicated."

It takes him a few moments to get his mind back on track. _You have Gina. Your girlfriend. Gina is the only woman you are allowed to ogle._

"Uh, I guess so," he coughs, forcing himself to turn away and focus on the never ending ocean before him, rather than the seductress unknowingly torturing him sitting by his side. "But really, so long as you don't get hit by the boom pole as it swings around, you should be fine."

She hums, tilting her head as she carries on observing him steering the sailboat.

They're left in an easy silence for a while, and Beckett reaches over for the basket to nibble at a packet of M&Ms he brought with her in mind. He tries to bite down against his growing smile at the sight.

An annoying flapping from one corner of the main sail ends up frustrating him enough that he moves to tighten it, and Beckett offers to hold the tiller for him while he does. Once he's sorted it out, he sees her sitting there, M&Ms left to the side, as she holds the lengthy wooden rod precariously with both hands. She's completely still, muscles tense as she holds it, as if she's afraid to move it accidentally, and he suddenly has an idea.

"Hey, Beckett, pull it towards you a little, would you?"

She stares at him uneasily for a long moment, before hesitantly pulling the beam towards her, only slightly, but enough that it begins to turn the boat.

"Okay, that's good," he nods, shielding his eyes from the beating sun as he looks out ahead. "Now a little away from you."

"Castle," he hears her say, her voice tight. "What are you doing?"

"Telling you how to steer," he shrugs nonchalantly, not turning to look at her. "Push it a little further?"

" _No._ What?" she grits out, and he has to fight against a growing smirk. "Come and take this off me."

He shakes his head, chuckling lightly at the disgruntled noise of protest she makes.

"You're doing great," he tells her easily. "Just keep going."

At that moment, the wind suddenly picks up and catches the sail, and the entire boat is thrown on a steep tilt to the left.

Beckett releases a startled yelp, and he sees her clinging to the tiller and pulling herself forward, and he sits himself down hastily, holding on to the side of the boat to keep from falling forward.

"It's alright," he calls to her over the roar of the wind. "It's just the wind. It can't capsize."

Her wild eyed look meets his, and he can't help but be amused how the normally stoic detective appears to be having a massive freak out right now. Clinging to the tiller like a safety raft, she squeezes her eyes shut. She looks just like Alexis did when she was out here with him, afraid and unused to the strange contortion of gravity, and he finds himself leaning forward, taking pity on her as he touches her arm.

"Hey, it's okay," he tells her, voice still raised over the insistent whistling of the wind and rush of water around them. "You're alright."

"Just," she starts, her teeth grit tightly. "Just take the damn thing back, would you?"

He abides her request and takes back the control of the sailboat himself, and guides them for a while longer until they near his part of the island, and the boat evens out again.

Beckett's calmed down a little, so he asks her if she wants to try again. Not one to ever pass up on the opportunity to prove herself, she sets her jaw in determination, her eyes like steel as she takes the tiller from him once again. Directing her, he suddenly finds the sun on his back too sweltering, and he pulls his shirt off, only to see Beckett with her eyes fixed on him now rather than the seas in front.

He can't help the smirk that does nothing to hide his ego boost.

Once they've advanced a little more and Beckett's started to get the hang of things, he decides to bring them a little closer to the shore, just in case they want to dock soon.

"Alright, Beckett," he says, voice softer now that the wind has hushed. "Come about."

Her mouth drops open, and she looks completely taken aback.

"Do what now?"

"Come about," he repeats, motioning to the tiller still held tightly in her hands. "Push the tiller away from you, and we'll swap sides. It's how to make the boat perform a bigger turn."

Swallowing thickly, Beckett gives him a determined nod, bracing herself so that she's half out of her seat. She pushes the beam away from her, and the two of them jump up to switch sides.

Staggering up, he brushes past her as the boat turns tightly, tipping up on its side again. His hand barely grazes the bare skin of her hip where her kimono has been flaring out from the wind, and he stumbles with the shock. Electricity skips through him, up his nerve endings and straight to the pits of arousal lying deep in his stomach.

The contact renders him motionless for a moment too long, and Castle feels the clip of the boom pole as it swings over them. He trips backward in an effort to avoid being whacked on the head, but he misjudges the angled tilt of the boat, and suddenly feels himself suspended in mid-air before he's swallowed up by the water.

* * *

" _Castle!"_

She lurches forward, throwing herself over to the left side of the boat when it bounces flat with the lack of weight on one side. Stumbling onto the bench, she pushes herself up to stand on the seat, clinging onto the boom pole for dear life as she tries to drop the sails, eventually managing to succeed and bring the sail boat to a steady halt.

Rushing over to the side of the boat, she kneels on the bench again to glance over the edge, scanning the murky grey of the water desperately for any sign of him.

"Castle?" she yells, cupping a hand around her mouth she whips her head around for the sight of a soaked flop of brown hair and a clumsy hand waving at her somewhere overboard. " _Castle!"_

Panic starts to rip through her. It shreds at her insides, stabbing at her heart that has already been through enough pain this summer. He can't be gone. He is s _omewhere_ here, waiting for her to find him.

She refuses to accept the possibility of any other scenario.

A watery gasps clutches at her throat, and she blinks away the unwanted onslaught of tears, choking them back as she tries to calm herself down.

"Oh, jeez," she sniffs, her breath stuttering in the claws of panic, and she grips the edge of the boat, taking one steady inhale at a time to try and compose herself. "Goddamn it. Castle, where are you?"

"Down here."

Her entire body jolts in shock, and she gasps, pushing herself forwards to find the writer grinning down at her just next to the boat.

Holy shit.

"Oh-oh my _God,_ " she chokes out, clutching at her chest as she stares at him. "Are you trying to kill me, you jerk?"

Castle laughs heartily, swiping a hand through the soaked mop of his hair, treading water just below her. _What a jackass._

"It's nice to know you're concerned for my safety, Detective."

She growls at him, thoroughly pissed off as she pushes herself away from the boat edge, and he calls out in protest. "Wait, no, no, no," she hears. "I'm sorry. Can you just pass me a rope down?"

For half a second, she's tempted to just leave him there, clinging to the side of the boat, but she relents. Searching inside the cabin, she finds a rope that should be strong enough to hold his weight, and heads back out to help him.

The fiery beat of the sun on her skin makes her shrug off the kimono first, dumping it on the seat as she lets her shoulders breathe. Then, gripping the rope tightly in one hand, she flings the other end overboard so Castle can latch onto it.

"Thank you," he sighs in relief, giving her a salute with one dripping wet hand. She rolls her eyes and tightly grips both hands around the rope, holding it tightly so that Castle can pull himself up. "Can you give me a hand?"

"I have half a mind to just let you _drown_."

"No you wouldn't," he chuckles at her in between grunts. "You'd miss me too much."

That hits a little close to home, and the rising frustration and just general emotional exhaustion steadily building inside her starts to reach breaking point.

"I survived the last few months with no word from you, didn't I?"

His eyes flick down to the water, not saying a word in reply, and she huffs as she leans precariously over the edge of the boat to offer him a hand. She has to lean quite far, only her legs against the side keeping her from tilting in, and she grabs onto his hand.

It's wet and slippery, but she has to shove down the sizzling warmth of contact that comes with feeling his much larger hands engulfing her own.

She tries to pull him up a little, but the boat is tilting with all the weight on only one side, and she groans in exertion.

"Isn't there an easier way to do this?"

The moment the words are out of her mouth, a ripple of waves bounce the boat underneath her, and the sudden motion leave her no time to brace herself when the boat leaps in response. She feels herself falling just as Castle yells out her name, but she's helpless to stop it as she's engulfed by the shocking cold of salt water as she lands on top of her partner.

For a few moments she feels numb.

She's surrounded by freezing water and darkness, tangled in a mess of limbs with Castle. On instinct, she begins to thrash about, flailing her arms and kicking out her legs to escape, but it feels like she's been tied up. It's as if the rope has fallen into the depths with her and wrapped itself around her body to strangle her.

Something strong pulls her upwards with one big stroke, and she gasps when light hits her eyes again. The monotonous drone below the surface is instantly replaced by the slosh of water and the sound of her rapid inhales as she fills her lungs with air. Castle's gripping her bicep with one hand as he clings to the side of the boat with the other, propping her up while she recovers from the shock of falling.

"Hey," he heaves out, eyes raking over her in worry. "You alright?"

She coughs, swallowing down the salty taste of water before replying.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she sighs, moving her tongue about it her mouth to try and rid herself of the unpleasant tang of salt water. "I didn't mean to fall on you."

"No, it's…it's okay."

She tilts her head at his hesitance, her hair splaying out on the surface of the water surrounding her as she latches onto the rope Castle's offering her. Thank God she'd thought to tie it to a beam up there.

Castle himself is blushing, his face red beneath the sheen of water dripping down his jaw, and it's then that she realises that she's pressed up against him, her legs still tangled with his as she tries not to lose him.

Great. He probably received a face-full of boob when she fell on top of him, didn't she?

She tries to will herself to pull away from him and unthread her legs from his, but the alternative of dangling them down into the empty nothingness below is just too unwelcoming. So instead, she leaves one hooked around his calf, hoping he'll be kind and just not mention it as they search for a way up.

"Do you want to try climbing on top of me to get back up?" Castle asks, his gaze fixed firmly above as he grips the side, but Beckett's brain is too stuck on 'climb on top of me' to answer right away.

When he eventually turns back to face her with an expectant look, she binks herself out of her haze, stuttering an agreement as he floats in front of her.

Presented with his naked back just in front of her, Beckett finds herself mesmerised by the play of muscles rippling down the broad width of his back. She gets as far as placing a palm between his shoulder blades, before she feels the quiver of his muscles, and she instantly draws away.

"You know," she stumbles over her words, scanning her brain for a valid excuse other than 'I can't climb on you because I won't be able to do anything about the arousal it will cause'. "If I go first, I might not be able to lift you up."

His face scrunches, and he turns to reach up for the ledge again. Small droplets of water keep dripping from the tip of his nose, and she startles herself with the fierce need to catch them with her lips.

 _Jeez. Control yourself, Kate._

Castle asks her to give him a slight boost as he grips both hands to the ledge on the side of the boat, and she releases the rope to tread water behind him, shoving on his back as he heaves and pulls himself up.

Grunting, he disappears over the edge, and Beckett hears him release an enthusiastic shout of victory, before his head pops over the side again. He reaches an arm down towards her, careful not to make the same mistake she did and instead wraps a hand around the rope to make sure he doesn't fall out again, and pulls her up after him.

She stumbles into him with the momentum, heaving out gasping breaths as she attempts to get her bearings again. Opening the eyes she's squeezed shut, she looks up to find Castle only inches away from where she's kneeling on the floor of the boat.

She can feel the heavy huffs of breath he's releasing brush over her cheeks, and she finds herself lifting a palm up instinctually to capture the phantom of a kiss he's left there.

His eyes flick over her face curiously, water still trickling its way down the nooks of his face, and she wants to lean forward and chase the droplets with her tongue. The hungry navy of the eyes staring back at her almost make her believe he'd be okay with that idea, but he shouldn't be.

He's with Gina.

Pulling away, she averts her eyes and sits back on her heels, wrapping her arms around herself. It's pretty damn cold now.

"So, uh…" Castle stands himself up awkwardly, running a hand through his mess of hair and sending sprinkles of water everywhere. "I'm assuming you've had enough ocean adventure for one day, huh?"

She huffs out a laugh, flicking her sopping wet hair over her shoulder. "More like a lifetime."

"Should we just dock at my place then?" he asks, regarding her somewhat hesitantly. "It's not far from here, and that way we can dry off."

Shoulders drooping, she breathes out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

They're both still dripping wet when they eventually make it back to shore, trudging up his porch when he opens the door for her. Castle notices the slight chatter to her teeth, despite the warmth, and he feels guilty when he realises that she can't go back to change.

She's supposed to be spending the day 'entertaining' him, after all. It won't do for her to head back over to the club again, not if she doesn't want to arouse suspicion.

But, as much as he's guiltily been enjoying the show of skin he's received today, he doesn't want her to get sick.

"Do you want to borrow something?" he asks her, leading her through to the seating area. "I can find you some clothes to change into."

Beckett stares up at him, eyes hard as she halts. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, in what he thinks is a mixture of feeling exposed and just the general chill drafting around the house, and she raises an eyebrow at him meaningfully.

"What?" he says, completely befuddled by her reaction. Or lack thereof.

She rolls her eyes, releasing a heavy sigh as she shifts her weight on her feet.

"I don't really think your ex-wife will appreciate me wearing her clothes, Castle."

What?

Oh.

"No, no," he shakes his head rapidly, an awkward chuckle tight in his throat at the thought of making Beckett wear Gina's clothing. "I, uh…I meant, mine. You can borrow some of my clothes."

Both of Beckett's eyebrows soar upwards, and he just wants to sink to the floor. After the day they've just had, he just can't cope with anymore awkwardness.

So he just tries to shrug it off. It's no big deal after all.

Beckett wearing his clothes.

Completely normal.

"What?" he asks, lifting his shoulders up as he rubs at his neck, catching the stray water droplets still trailing downwards from his hair. "You've borrowed them before."

Months ago. When a psycho killer targeted her and blew up her apartment, and almost took her with it.

The softening in her eyes tells him that she remembers it clearly enough too. He suddenly feels a strange sense of melancholy for the loss of that easy friendship they'd started to develop back then.

If only he knew what was really bothering her about all this.

"Alright, you have a point," she sighs, tilting one side of her mouth up in a slight smile. "Go and get me some clothes, Castle. That way you can stop ogling me."

"Detective, you should know by now that I'll be ogling you regardless of your state of attire."

He can practically hear her eyes rolling as he jogs up the stairs to find some spare clothes for her. Scanning the large chest of drawers in his upstairs closet, he finds a pair of loose sweats that she can hopefully pull tighter with the drawer string, and a plain black t shirt that'll probably drown her. But it'll do.

She accepts the clothes gratefully when he bounds back down the stairs, and she rushes off to the downstairs bathroom to change.

He watches her go, marvelling at the last peek of glorious skin before she turns the corner.

A sound behind him a moment later has him whipping around, and he sees a flash of blonde hair as the front door swings open again.

"Gina," he say, surprised, and not necessarily pleasantly so. "I thought you were working this afternoon?"

She slides off her sunglasses, placing them on the side table as she approaches him.

"Meeting finished early," she explains, smiling as she loops an arm around his face and presses a sweet peck of a kiss to his lips. "Besides, I wanted to see how you were getting on with writing today."

Guilt seeps into his bloodstream and fills him up at the words. He hasn't done any writing today, being too busy with Beckett out on the boat. And he hadn't even told Gina that he was spending time with another woman today.

This is going to be awful.

Of course, Beckett chooses that moment to come back from the bathroom, newly changed and looking adorably rumpled in the swamp of his clothing. She's holding her swimsuit bunched up in one hand, and she glances up to find him.

The smile practically melts off her face when she spots Gina with her arm around him.

 _The ground can swallow me up any moment now._

"Detective Beckett," Gina greets, the charming tone one he recognises well from the vast array of social events she's dragged him along to. "I didn't think I would be seeing you today. Have you both been doing undercover work?"

Castle opens and then immediately closes his mouth again dumbly, fighting for an explanation, but thankfully Beckett saves him.

"We had to do something together today just to keep up the pretence while I'm not undercover at the bar, so we just went to the beach and sailed for a while," she twists a drying strand of hair around her finger, the strands curling slightly with the warm air. "Castle was kind enough to lend me these when we both got soaked out on the water."

Gina nods in understanding, and in that moment he's ridiculously grateful that his girlfriend is level headed enough to know that there isn't anything worth getting worked up about in this situation.

Not right now, anyway.

"But, I should get going," Beckett continues, smiling tightly. He wants to protest, ask her to stay with him here and watch a movie and order in. Or even better, let him cook for her, but he knows he can't. Friendly or not, it would just be inconsiderate and unfair of him to do that while Gina's staying here with him. "Leave you two alone."

"What about the cover, though?" he hears himself asking, the thought striking him. "Won't Bruce expect you to be here?"

"I'll go back to the safe house and help out the boys," she explains, nodding as she shuffles around him and Gina to reach the door. "Ryan can pick me up, and they'll probably need me to go over what I know so far, anyway."

"If you're sure," he says, trying to fight the glumness he senses at the thought of her leaving.

"I'm sure," she sucks in a breath, giving him a smile that looks slightly forced, before waving goodbye to him and Gina, who still has her arm wrapped territorially around his waist. "I'll let you know what's going on tomorrow, Castle."

And with that, she disappears from sight, closing the front door after her.

He feels the trail of fingers walking up his arm, and Gina reaches up on her tiptoes to whisper hotly in his ear.

"Just the two of us now, hmm?"

Swallowing thickly, he nods, trying to fend off the uneasy sensation inside of him at the thought that he's already looking forward to hearing from Beckett again tomorrow, when he hasn't even missed the presence of his own girlfriend all day.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading and for all the support!_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

* * *

"So, what kind of things are they actually hoping you find undercover?"

Beckett dips another one of her french fries in ketchup, dragging it through so that it's slathered, before answering Castle's question.

"They just want me to help build on the case," she explains, popping the fry in her mouth and wiping her fingers on the napkin. "I might find some proof behind the scenes and be able to implicate him, and I can also get some information from the other girls there."

"What do you mean?" he asks, placing his burger down for a moment to regard her with his question. "How can they help?"

"If they have any proof of his behaviour, they can testify in court to help make the case stronger," she tells him, taking a moment to scan her eyes around the diner. An instinctual cop habit she hasn't quite managed to break for her cover. "I've been speaking to one girl in particular quite a lot these past few days. She's only young, _too_ young to be in a place like that, but Bruce seems to be quite fixated on her. I think she might know something."

She'd hesitantly given Castle a call this morning, half expecting to wake him up after a night rolling in the sheets with his ex-wife, but thankfully he seemed as though he'd been up for a while. His voice didn't sound as groggy as it usually does when she wakes him for early morning body drops, and when she'd asked, he explained that he was writing.

They arranged to meet for lunch over at a diner near the club, hoping to promote their cover a little more this time by behaving more overtly in public, and it also gives her a chance to fill him in on the investigation so far. It's not like any one can overhear a word they're saying with all the noise here.

"Well, that should at least give you and the boys something else to look into," he says, rubbing his fingers on the crumpled napkin beside him. "This way, you guys can add whatever you find to the Hamptons PD's official investigation."

Beckett shrugs, drawing her eyes away from the moderately filled diner and leaning back against the padded cushion of the bench she's sitting on. The glare of the midday sun is harsh through the window, but she still finds herself enjoying the warmth it offers.

"Hopefully, anyway. We went over his previous arrest records for drug convictions, seeing as we know the women murdered were heavily drugged with Flunitrazepam before they were killed, and he's had previous charges for smuggling benzodiazepines."

"So the girls were roofied before they were killed," Castle says thoughtfully, keeping his voice down despite the outrage flickering on his face. "That just sucks even more."

Beckett's mouth twists and she nods, brushing a hand through her hair as she releases a sigh.

"Yeah. Considering their jobs it's quite difficult to look for definitive evidence of sexual assault, but Lanie couldn't find anything glaringly obvious, so hopefully that means they were just knocked unconscious before they were killed."

Castle nods sombrely, picking at the remains of his burger now, rather than enjoying it, and Beckett finds herself suddenly losing her appetite too. The diner hurries on around them, blissfully ignorant of the sinister happenings in their little area as the lunch rush swings in to full force with waitresses rushing from table to table. The chatter of happy voices and clanging cutlery mutes their sensitive conversation.

"Isn't that probable cause, though?" Castle speaks up, an eager light of excitement glowing in his eyes. "You should be able to get a warrant for his arrest for that."

She gives him a half-hearted smile as she swirls her straw around inside the half-finished milkshake glass. "That's what I thought, but the Hamptons PD isn't keen on drawing his attention to the fact that he's the subject of our investigation."

Castle's jaw unhinges, dropping open in shock. "What, so they're just going to do nothing?"

"No, no," she waves her hand at him, trying to calm him down. "They are, but it'll just be to search his place. Seeing as the drug charges are from quite a few years ago now, it still isn't enough to build a case against him for murder. So, they're getting a team to search the office tonight at the club, hopefully without him realising."

Tilting his head, Castle raises an eyebrow in confusion. "How exactly are they supposed to do that?"

She reaches for her milkshake, sucking down what's left as she wraps her lips around the straw, well aware of his heated gaze on her mouth. She flicks her eyes to meet his heavy stare, releasing the straw with a slight _smack._

"Well," she smirks, letting the words roll off her tongue to reach him. "That's where you come in."

* * *

The thump of music drums against her ears when they walk inside the club later that night, the blaring sounds ringing inside her head in a rhythmic drone that bounces from one side to the other. She can feel the heat of sweat from dancing bodies clinging to her almost immediately, the stick of her shoes to the floor, already spoiled by alcohol spillage from clumsy hands, and the vibrant flash of lights overhead threaten to overwhelm her senses.

Castle's at her back.

 _Right_ at her back.

Pressed up against her in the herd of moving people, so close she can sense the puff of his breath behind her ear, the warmth of his body burning through to hers where they make contact.

Maybe a backless dress was a bad idea.

They weave through the mass of people, trying to find somewhere to get some breathing space and just go over what the mission is for them tonight. Ryan and Esposito are waiting for them over by the tables next to the bar, on standby to debrief them under their covers as security guards for the club.

Someone mashes against her shoulder, and she winces, turning around to make sure she doesn't lose Castle in the flashing mess of colour and people. She reaches out for him, grabbing onto the palm he stretches out towards her, and drags him along behind her.

Esposito is waiting for them when they finally make it through, shuffling over and motioning for the two of them to take a seat at the table where Ryan is leaning back against the wall.

"Hey, what took you guys so long?" Espo huffs, raising his voice over the boom of music. "We've been waiting here for like half an hour."

"Castle couldn't decide which shirt to wear," she says flippantly, ignoring the man in question's exclamation of protest as she takes a seat. "So, what's the plan?"

Ryan shifts over slightly against the wall so he's nearer to them, hands behind his back and chest puffed out in exaggeration to sell his new occupation as a bouncer.

"The squad are just doing safety checks, and will probably make their move in just under an hour."

"To search Bruce's office downstairs?" Castle clarifies, starting to lean his elbows on the table, but quickly recoiling when he notices how sticky the surface is.

"Yeah," Ryan nods, keeping his eye line straight ahead and refusing any visual contact with them as he speaks. "So you guys just need to make sure you keep him distracted while they're down there."

Beckett swallows thickly, dread coiling low in her stomach. This is the part where things are going to get a little awkward.

"Well…" Castle starts, trailing off in thought. "How're we supposed to do that?"

Esposito looks over at Beckett pointedly, and she rolls her eyes, sagging down slightly under the weight of her shoulders. The boys have already filled her in on this little idea, which she of course argued against, but they had already run it by the Hamptons PD, so she didn't really have much of a choice.

"If you haven't realised by now," she begins, sighing as she directs her words towards Castle. "Bruce is pretty voyeuristic, and he obviously wants to make sure that his… _investments,_ are good for business."

She drops her eyes down when she sees the flicker of realisation in his eyes, and she can't quite bring herself to meet his gaze.

"He's going to be watching us?"

"Yeah," she nods, scrunching up her face in distaste "So we're just going to dance and act like we're having a good time together to keep his attention on us, until the operation is complete."

"We'll be here too," Espo cuts in, tapping on the top of one of the empty chairs with his knuckle. "That way we can keep an eye on him and intervene if he goes down towards the office. You guys can behave more naturally if you don't have to worry about that."

"And the investigative team are cutting in through downstairs, right?" she asks, wanting to distract the conversation from anything she and Castle need to behave 'naturally' about. "We've made sure the path is clear?"

"Yes," Esposito nods, giving her a half-hearted eye roll of his own. "Everything is sorted and in place, _Houghton_. All you need to worry about is getting a drink and having a good time with your…client."

She gives Espo a sarcastic smile, before pulling herself up and out of the chair, reaching over for Castle to drag him after her again. Trying to get into character, she attempts to loosen her body, remove the tension sewn into her muscles right now.

Spotting Bruce sitting over by the bar, scanning his eyes over the crowd of people dancing, she nudges Castle to a halt.

"We'll go and dance near him to start with," she speaks into his ear, trying to ensure her voice reaches only him while still being loud enough over the music. "That way we can try to get his attention right away, and hopefully he'll just follow us around like the creep he is all night."

"Sounds like a plan," Castle booms back to her, placing a hand on her waist as he guides her over that section of the dancefloor.

This is going to be so weird. So _awkward._

Dancing is bad enough, but with _Castle?_ While pretending to be a couple, without the aid of alcoholic courage to begin with.

She's seriously going to need a drink.

* * *

She was right

It is incredibly awkward.

Pressed up against the front of him, surrounded by the mesh of people around them, as they both try to dance convincingly as a couple. Despite _not_ being together and not wanting to overstep the very clear boundaries between them.

But this is blurring the lines she's worked so hard to build between them.

It's one of the main reasons she didn't want him intercepting her cover. It crosses margins that she isn't completely comfortable with, especially after spending the entire summer so far trying to forget about him and rub away any trace he's left on her life this past year.

And now they need to pretend that none of this unamicable tension between them exists, and forget the fact that they're Castle and Beckett, and that he's with Gina. Because they're supposed to be dancing together in a way so captivating that Bruce won't be able to look away.

But this just isn't going to cut it.

Someone knocks into her from behind, and she bumps up against Castle's chest with a grunt. He catches her, steadying her as she gets her feet back under her again, and she tries to resist the automatic need to remove herself from his arms and just go with it.

"You okay?" he asks, speaking against her ear so that she feels the hot rush of air stroking over her cheeks.

Nodding, she closes her eyes, gripping his shirt tighter in her fists as she tries to just listen to the music, feel the beat and ignore everything so she can dance.

Castle seems to understand what she's doing, because he releases her arms, sliding his hands down to cup her elbows before eventually resting them on her waist. He shuffles closer, enough so that her head is glancing over his shoulder now, and the two of them try to move together.

Just feeling, no thoughts.

It's okay for a while, even quite easy when she just numbs her mind and tries to get into the thoughts of Houghton. Twisting her hips and moving to the beat of the sounds around them. She tries to ignore the burning feel of his body against hers, but when a stumbling couple bumps them, it knocks their hips together at just the right angle to have her eyes rolling back.

 _Holy fuck._

"Shit," she hears Castle curse, and he squeezes her hip in apology. "Sorry, Beckett."

From what she can hear over the music, his voice is rough, huskily with what she might dare to call arousal as he dips his head slightly so his cheek brushes against the top of her head.

Okay. Enough.

She pulls him towards her by his shirt, twisting around and yanking him with her over to the bar.

"What are you doing?"

Ignoring him, she squeezes into a spare spot in between two other people, and waves over the bartender.

"Two shots of vodka, please."

"Beckett?"

"Hush, _Rick_. And my name's _Houghton,_ idiot."

If he's going to be doing this to her, she's at least making sure she has the excuse of alcohol to explain her reaction to him right now.

She passes a shot over to Castle wordlessly, before downing the contents of her own shot glass in one go. Throwing her head back, she tries not to wince at the burning sensation as it slip down her throat, and shudders slightly as she slams the now empty glass back on the bar surface.

Castle just stares at her, eyes wide with his mouth agape, and she tilts her head at him as she raises an eyebrow.

"I-" he stutters, still holding the shot glass as he watches her. "I thought you were on duty?"

"I'm _undercover,_ " she smirks, taking a step closer to him. She's pretty certain that Bruce is watching them from further down the bar. "And I am also not needed in this operation, so we're free to add a little more realism to our act as a drunken, loved-up couple dancing in a club."

He blinks, taking another moment to just rake his eyes over her - she knows he hasn't been able to stop looking at her legs since he saw her in this dress - before throwing the glass back himself.

His face twists in disgust, and she can't help the laugh that escapes her, feeling a little lighter already. Castle mock glares at her, before sending her a challenging smile and moving back up towards the bar.

"Four more shots," he calls out to the bartender, and the smile slips off Beckett's face.

"Wait, what?" she stumbles over her words, grabbing his arm as she comes up next to him. "No, Castle. I just meant one shot. I can't get myself drunk when I have a job to do."

"Come on, _Houghton_ ," he grins, and the boyish charm in that single action has her softening slightly under his gaze despite her will. "You're the one who said that we're undercover as a drunk couple. This will only make things more realistic."

She finds herself chewing her lip as she debates the choices before her, surprised that she's actually considering it. It's probably a terrible idea, but she knows that she has no reason not to right now. 'Get drunk and dance' was literally Espo's run down of her role in this operation.

She's drawn out of her thoughts by Castle's challenging smirk. "Or don't you think you can handle it?"

He eyes narrow, and she purses her lips and sets herself in determination.

"Oh, you're on, Rick."

* * *

Heat sizzles around him, the fogginess of his head making lights flash through his vision in slow motion. People are everywhere, around him, against him. But he only cares about one of them.

The sweet release of all anxiousness and worry makes him brave, reckless. And the cloud of alcohol drifting through his mind lets him forget about all the tension, all the negative feelings of the past few months, and instead focus on what's right in front of him.

The incredibly hot detective right in front of him.

Castle pushes himself off from where he was leaning on the surface of the bar, grinning dopily as he follows Beckett's fluid movements as she beckons him back towards the dance floor. Her hips are swaying with a new found alcohol induced confidence, and he staggers after her, now eager to find a physical outlet for the pent up buzzing in his veins.

The beat of the music blares from the overhead speakers, thumping in time with the pulsating rhythm of his heart against his ribcage, and before Beckett melts into the sea of people dancing, she grabs his arm, wrapping it around her as she drags him.

Thankfully, she still seems sensible enough to keep her mind on the mission, even after the copious amounts of rounds they'd just drank, which is good because he's just a blur of drunken energy right now. She twists them so they're sideways, giving Bruce a perfect view of them from where he's still creepily observing them from his perch at the bar.

Castle doesn't know what to do with his hands for a moment, suspending them in mid-air until Beckett takes them both in hers, pulling herself closer and wrapping them around her waist. The heat of her skin send sparks igniting when his hands span the backless part of the dress, and he just wants to stand there for the rest of the night, feeling the warmth of her bare skin against his palms.

"Dance, Castle," she murmurs into his ear, pushing herself up against him. "Get moving while he's watching us."

It takes a few moments for the signal to reach his limbs from his brain before he manages to comply, moving his body with hers to the rhythm of the music. She's pressed against his chest, arms looped around his neck as she sways her hips, rolling her body so it touches every inch of his, and he has to close his eyes, remind himself that this is fake, that Beckett is just acting, and that he _has a girlfriend._

He is so not going to survive tonight.

"Jeez, I'm not that repulsive, am I?" He sees her roll her eyes once he opens them again, even in the dim lighting. "Make it look like you want me a little, Castle."

A growl escapes him in response.

He wants to push her up against the nearest flat surface and show her _how very much_ he does want her, but instead he holds back, choosing to travel his hands down to play at her hips, squeezing them and going with the wave of her dancing as he pulls their lower halves closer together.

It's almost too much, at the same times nowhere near enough, but he goes with it, playing through the pretence of drunk lovers by just letting his hidden thoughts and feelings rise to the surface.

Her breath huffs in small pants in his ear, and he finds himself no longer caring whether Bruce is watching, placing all his attention on the gorgeous woman dancing with him and stroking the nape of his neck with the tips of her fingers. The bouncing waves of her hair, so much longer than when he left her months ago, begs him to reach up and brush a hand through it, and he finds himself skating a hand back up her spine, his fingers splaying over the muscles until he reaches the soft ends.

Becket shivers in response to his delicate touch, and she finally meets his gaze, her eyes almost black in the dim lighting, a flare of red blushing her cheeks, and her parted lips looking so unbelievably kissable he's actually terrified for a moment that he's going to do something stupid.

Thankfully she distracts him though, pressing her forehead against his as her palm cups the side of his neck, so close that they could be sharing air right now. They don't shy away like they have every other time, instead allowing the lights and music and _alcohol_ wash over them, almost like a protective layer that lets them be brave, reassuring them that none of this will ever be mentioned again.

The thought makes him irrationally sad, and he spins her around, pressing flat against her back as he wraps his arms around her, bunching the smooth material of that sinfully short dress in his fists as she rolls her hips against his. He pants, slamming his eyes shut as he bows his head, pressing his face against her shoulder as he just breathes her in, using everything within him not to run his tongue along the delicious curve of her neck.

Her hand comes up to snake through the mussed strands of his hair, and he hold her tighter, her chest heaving with exertion underneath him as he tries to slow down his own breathing.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he hears himself say, without fully realising what negative omens he's just released into the air.

Beckett freezes in front of him, body turning to ice as she straightens up, robotically removing his hands from around her waist, before stalking off to the bar again without so much as a glance back.

Shit.

He dodges the tangles of people surrounding him, clumsy with drink as he weaves in between them to try and catch up with Beckett.

It's sweltering in here. Hot with bodies and atmosphere. Probably not the best place to get cosy dancing with her.

But still. He shouldn't have said that. None of this is her fault, and he knows it. He was the one who was so eager to join in on this investigation, despite his relationship status and after leaving for the summer, so he brought most of this on himself.

And seriously. Did he _really_ think dancing provocatively with Beckett wasn't going to ignite inappropriate feelings of lust?

He spots Beckett leaning over the bar near the left end, and he starts over to apologise when a hands shoots out to stop him. _What the hell?_

"Esposito?"

The man in question nods at him gruffly, pulling him over to an empty space at the bar before he speaks to him.

"What the hell are you doing, Bro?"

Castle feels his brows furrow in confusion.

"Me?" he asks, his brain sluggish as he rests his weight against the counter. "What do you mean?"

Espo huffs, looking slightly pissed, and his eyes flick over Castle's shoulder for a second. Turning around to follow his line of sight, he shifts to get a look over the row of heads, and sees Ryan over the other end of the bar talking to an annoyed Beckett.

"Undercover or not," Esposito continues, drawing his attention back from the captivating sight of Beckett leaning over the counter in that tight little dress. "If you do anything to hurt her again, I will make you bleed."

 _Hurt her again?_

"Espo," he chuckles nervously, scratching a hand behind his neck. "I'm sort of drunk right now, and I have absolutely _no idea_ what you're talking about."

The detective's face twists in to a scowl, and Castle can't help but shrink back slightly under his imposing glare.

"Before the summer," he says blankly, and Castle feels the cogs churning in his head again. "You left, and you hurt her bad, Bro."

He tilts his head, and he feels the weight of his body follow so he has to latch on to the bar. "Before the summer?" he repeats, confused. "I thought she was more concerned about Demming?"

Esposito's eyes flash, and Castle suddenly has the hazy inkling that he's said something wrong. Gaze shifting to glance over at Ryan and Becket again, Espo leans down close to him, hesitating momentarily before continuing.

"Look, I shouldn't even be telling you this, but you're pretty wasted and hopefully won't fully remember this anyway. She wasn't treating you all that great during those last few weeks, and we all knew that wasn't right of her, but when you said you were leaving, I think she realised. She broke it off with Demming just before you left with your ex-wife."

Castle just stares at him.

It takes him a few moments for the synapses in his brain to connect and make sense of the words he's just heard. And he feels his heart sinking down through his chest when he finally manages to.

Holy crap.

 _All this time?_

He's screwed up. He doesn't know exactly how, but he has most definitely screwed up in some way or another.

Espo pats him on the shoulder and tuts, before pulling himself up and standing from the bar stool, glancing over the other end of the bar again, before turning back to face him.

"Go and talk to her, man," he says, his voice more sympathetic this time. "The op's over, so you can just chill out now."

He leaves him sitting there, dazed as he melts back into the darkness of the club. After taking another few moments to compose himself, Castle does the same, standing and sliding between gaps of people to reach Beckett again.

Ryan's left her now, and she stands there alone, nursing a drink as her fingers tap against the glass. She doesn't look at him, or even so much as acknowledge his presence, but instead continues drinking, and he finds himself distracted by the column of her neck when she tips her head back.

Thankfully he manages to get a hold of himself, coughing loud over the music in a meaningful enough way that she turns around, meeting his eyes with a blank expression, her eyes narrowed slightly in a held back glare.

"What do you want, Rick?"

"To apologise," he starts, dipping his head under the weight of her harsh tone. "I didn't mean to upset you. But I just realised how difficult me being involved in this is making things between us, and I never wanted that to happen."

She huffs, leaning back on her elbows as she takes another swig from her glass. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you got yourself stuck here with me."

"Hey, no," he shakes his head, taking a step closer to her. He tries to ignore the stickiness of the floor gluing to the bottoms of his shoes. "I could never describe being anywhere with you as 'stuck', it's just that I know things have been difficult between us lately, and I don't want to make that worse."

Her gaze softens slightly, and he can see the crease between her eyebrows ease as they come out of a glare. He wonders if she's ever realised how adorable that brow furrow is. Then he wonders how much alcohol he's actually drank tonight.

She sighs, her shoulders sagging slightly as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. The sight makes his heart pound, but he somehow manages to concentrate rather than getting lost in images of soothing it with his tongue.

"Well," she starts, lowering her head and hiding behind the curtain of her hair. "Ryan said the team have left the office now, so we're in the clear."

"What do we do now, then?"

Beckett's eyes flick back up to his, a challenging glint in them as she tilts her head at him.

"More shots."

"Oh no, Houghton," he shakes his head, wincing. "Not more."

"You don't think you can handle it?"

"Not without staining my dignity, no."

She purses her lips in an attempt to hold off a smile, sweeping the stray wave of her hair behind one ear, and he's glad to see her looking more relaxed again.

"Come on, Rick," she says coyly, fluttering her eyelashes in a way he's almost certain is intentional. "I thought you were the party animal out of the two of us. Don't tell me you can't handle your alcohol."

He raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Oh, I can certainly hold my alcohol, Houghton."

"Then prove it."

At that moment the bartender presents them with more drinks on the counter, the translucent liquid intimidating even in glasses so small. He swallows down his itch of caution, reaching out and throwing back the shot glass, letting the overwhelming taste of alcohol burn down his throat like liquid fire, surpassing a shudder as he turns back to face Beckett.

"You were saying?" he grins at her smugly.

"That was one shot, Castle."

"Yeah, but I can do more."

She stares at him for a long moment, the growing smirk forming on her face as she leans further against the bar, reaching a long arm over to pick up a shot glass herself.

"Not as many as me," she says, before washing down the drink before her, not even looking slightly affected by the unpleasantly strong taste. "I could drink you underneath this table."

"Oh really?" he huffs out a laugh, starting to feel deliciously light headed with drink again. "You think so?"

"I know so," she hums, sliding her pointer finger around the rim of the now empty glass.

"Yeah?" he chuckles, sliding closer so that he can lean down to speak directly into her ear. She's somehow managed to escape the spillages of alcohol tonight, her hair still smelling sweet like cherries. "Bring it on."

* * *

The too bright light from his phone tells him that it's almost 4am when they both stagger out of the cab a few hours later. Beckett's clinging onto his arm, wrapped around it like a koala as she rests her head on his shoulder, and he has to resist a shudder every time her hands decide to roam the length of his bicep, stroking happily at the play of his muscles.

He's drowning in a hazy blur of drink and Beckett, and he feels stupidly pleased with himself for holding out for as long as he did, despite his detective following through with her promise, literally drinking him under the table after their third cocktail on the tail end of way too many shots. Falling on the floor was almost worth it to see the delightedly dopey grin on her face when she crowned herself victorious.

They stumble up the porch steps to reach his front door, and he searches his pockets for a good three minutes before he finally catches hold of his house key and connects his brain to his limbs long enough to unlock the door.

Beckett sighs from next to him, her eyelids fluttering as she mashes her cheek against his shoulder, loose and relaxed and seemingly just very _happy,_ as she allows him to lead her to the spare bedroom on the ground floor. Thankfully, Gina is in the city for the night working on a deal for his book tour, so he feels quite content to allow Beckett to stay here for the night without any impending awkwardness.

Something catches under Beckett's foot and she stumbles, her knees giving out as she falls into him, and he catches her with an arm held protectively around her waist.

"Careful, you," he chuckles, lifting her back to her feet as she slides up his body, snaking a searching hand around his neck. Just like when they'd danced. "Why do you still have your heels on?"

She giggles up at him happily. That's another thing he's learnt about Drunk-Beckett, she giggles. A lot.

"Because they make my ass look great."

He splutters out a laugh in response, still guiding her as she somehow manages to walk backwards while he leads her across the living space. She seems perfectly content with weaving her fingers through the strands of his hair, while he takes her in the right direction with his arms interlocked around her waist.

"Can't argue with that logic," he smiles, and she releases a blissful hum, so close that he can feel the warm puff of air on his chin.

He lets her go when they reach the spare bedroom, but she continues to cling to him, her eyes shut. She's leaning more heavily against him now, her head resting against his chest, and he manoeuvres around to pull the freshly washed comforter down, guiding Beckett to sit on the edge of the bed.

She kicks off her heels carelessly, flopping down on her back to lie against the crisp white sheets, and he chuckles at the sight. Beckett looks like she's out of it for now, so Castle picks her flopped legs up to rest them underneath the blanket, tucking the material around her to make her more comfortable.

Before leaving her to sleep himself, Castle takes a few moments to just watch her. Focus on the steady lull of her breathing, the way her fists clench and unclench slightly where they're flung up around her head, the way she hums happily every now and again.

It's one of the most adorable sights he's ever seen.

Feeling brave with liquid courage, he leans down carefully, brushing a touch of a kiss to her cheek before backing out of the room slowly, making it as far as the couch before he gives in to exhaustion, collapsing onto of the cushions and immediately being drowned by darkness.

* * *

 _A/N: Once again, thank you for the kind words and support!_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

* * *

Beckett wakes to an immediate falling sensation and her entire head spins when she rolls over. Her body feels like it's tilting on its side, unsteady and nauseating as she squeezes her eyes shut, gasps in a breath and tries to lie as still as possible just to stop the sensation.

Thankfully, it eases after a few moments. She squints an eye open, wincing against the onslaught of light against her retinas as she groans and takes a long inhale through her nose. Her palm are spread out wide on either side of her, and the sheets are tangled around her legs, rendering her immobile for the time being. She feels groggy and unclean and just downright _awful,_ and to make things worse she doesn't recognise where she is.

Grimacing, she manages to pull herself upwards into a sitting position, eyes struggling to open with their temporary aversion to sunlight. She just sits there for a moment, holding a shaking palm to her forehead as she sucks in several long breaths to try and ease the pounding in her head.

When her eyes adjust enough, she opens them up again cautiously. The first thing she notices is that she's alone, _thank God,_ and that the room she's sleeping in at least has a familiar feel to it, even if she can't recall ever seeing it before.

Wait.

 _Last night. Castle._

 _Dancing, drinking, and then taking a cab back…_

To his house.

Oh crap.

She grumbles under her breath, dropping her head into her palms as she just takes a minute to feel sorry for herself. Extremely hungover and mortified after a drunken night with her partner who she apparently decided to have a sleepover with.

Sighing, she braces herself before pushing up to her feet, standing perfectly still as she waits for the dizziness to subside with the sudden movement. Once it finally passes, Beckett adjusts the skirt of the same dress she'd worn last night, tugging it back down from where it's ridden up her thighs in her sleep.

She has no doubt that she looks like trash right now.

With one palm pressed against the wall, she leads herself out of the bedroom and ends up in the living area. Taking a quick glance around, she finds her body sagging under the sight before her.

Castle is lying face down on the couch, his face mashed against a pillow while one arm dangles lazily off the side. He's still in yesterday's clothing too, so he must have passed out here after-

After taking her to bed.

Shaking her head, Beckett pushes down the warm adoration she feels for this man, the guy who always seems to look out for her first, rather than worry about himself. Instead, she decides to do something about the parched, dry itch of her throat, manoeuvring around the couch to get to the kitchen.

It doesn't take very long to locate the glasses once she's retrieved the water from the fridge, and she sets two out, filling them almost to the brim before she sets about carrying them back to the living area.

A sudden _thump_ and the loud moan that follows has her hurrying as fast as she can without spilling the drinks, and she's met with Castle face-down on the floor, groaning pitifully to himself as he continues to just lie there, face pressing against the hard wood floor.

"Hey," she starts, wincing at the rough texture coating her voice as she speaks. "You alright?"

She kneels down in front of him, placing one drink on top of the coffee table next to them and stroking a hand down his shoulder, offering him the other glass. He accepts it gratefully, pushing up on to his elbows as he smiles sleepily at her, washing down the drink with a gusto.

"Thanks," he sighs, putting the glass down in front of him before looking back up towards her. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and some of it is plastered to his forehead with sleep, making him look like a little boy. She has to physically restrain herself from running her fingers through it. "How are you feeling?"

"Probably about as terrible as you look."

"Jeez," he scoffs, chuckling up at her. "Way to make a man feel good when he's hungover first thing in the morning, Beckett."

"Well," she smirks, tilting her head down at him. "You did just fall face first off the couch."

He winces, rubbing at his forehead where she can make out a slight red mark. "Yeah, probably not the best wake up call. To be fair though, you do look a little like Harley Quinn with your make up smeared like that."

Her eyes widen, and she skims a thumb underneath her waterline, trying to smear away the worst of the damages from falling asleep with her make up on.

Castle lifts a hand, pulling her own away from trying to fix her face as he laughs softly at her. "Hey, relax. I'm just kidding. Besides, you'd make a totally hot Harley Quinn anyway."

Huffing out a laugh, she drops her head down, letting the matted tangles of her hair fall in front of her face as she hears Castle shuffle up to a sitting position.

Glancing up again, she flits her gaze around them, biting down on her lip as she looks at the summer house. The gorgeous décor, the play of morning light as it streams through the large windows. It's beautiful here.

And she missed out on experiencing it for herself.

"Everything okay?"

Meeting his gaze, she's met with concern flickering up at her in Castle's eyes, and she suddenly notices a strange burst of longing swirl around in her stomach.

Or maybe she's just nauseous.

"Yeah, I…" she trails off, blinking down at him as she tries to keep her train of thought, rather than allow the sight of her sleepy and rumpled partner regarding her with such fondness to give her a twinge of sensations she has no right to be feeling. "Um, shower. Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Of course not," he smiles, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil. "There's a bathroom at the end of the hallway just upstairs."

"Okay, great. Thank you." she says on an exhale, using the coffee table to support her as she pulls herself up. Turning to the staircase, she rushes off to clean herself without another glance back.

She just needs to take a few minutes to compose herself. Get her mind away from the weird sensations and emotions of last night, and wrap herself around the fact that it was all just part of the cover.

She'll be fine once she's taken some time to adjust her mind set again.

Well, that, and once she's stopped looking like a creature who's escaped from a swamp.

* * *

When she returns downstairs, newly showered and swamped in one of Castle's sweaters and a pair of shorts, she's greeted by her partner slumping against the kitchen counter, holding the handle of a pan over the hob as he watches it blearily with one open eye.

"You okay, Castle?" she laughs, taking a seat at the counter just opposite him.

He blinks open his eyes, sending her a lazy smile when he turns to her.

"I'm good," he sighs, and he suddenly looks a little more attentive when he notices her. "Heh, wearing my clothes is starting to become a habit for you now."

She dips her chin, leaning against her palms on the counter as she futilely attempts to cover the blush burning at her cheeks. While rummaging through one of the closets upstairs, she'd spotted a pile of women's undergarments next to some of Castle's stuff. You didn't need to be a detective to work out who they belonged to, and the sight had guilt and embarrassment churning in her guts.

She blinks herself out of her daze, the fog of disorientation still heavy around her, and she looks up to see Castle staring into space above her shoulder.

"Castle," she says, trying to get his attention, her eyes on the wisps of grey smoke starting to rise from the pan. " _Castle."_

"Hmm?" he hums, eyes flicking down to meet her gaze.

"Your pancakes are burning."

"What? Oh, shit."

Shoulders shaking with the force of holding back her laugh, she leans further over the counter to watch him as he hurries to fix the mess he's making of breakfast, and she bites her lip as he rushes around the kitchen. He's still wearing the button up and the jeans that hug his ass perfectly from last night, and she can't resist allowing her eyes to drift down and follow his movements.

"Castle," she starts, standing up from the bar stool and making her way around the kitchen counter. "Go and have a shower, I can carry on with this."

He turns towards her, still looking deliciously rumpled in a way that makes her want to just curl up with him in a large bed and stay there all day while they-

Wait, _what?_

"Are you sure?" he calls her back from her unwanted thoughts, and it takes her a second to focus enough to answer.

"Yeah, of course," she nods enthusiastically, eager to occupy her mind with something other than how great his butt looks in those jeans, and how his arms had wrapped around her last night as they danced together, bodies rolling-

Oh fuck, she needs to do something about this.

"Go." She pushes him out of the kitchen, trying not to linger on the thoughts of his biceps as she does so. "You smell of alcohol and your weak tolerance level."

"Hey," he laughs, gripping on to the door frame and turning back around. "I think I put up a valiant effort against your crazy handle on alcohol."

"Well," she huffs out a laugh, flipping the pancake over with a quick flick of her wrist. "Until you ended up on the floor, that is."

Castle winces at the memory, squinting one of his eyes shut in a grimace.

"Yeah," he sighs, eyes unfocused as he stares past her. "I knew immediately after I drank the Sambuca shot it was a terrible idea."

She laughs as he turns and heads up the stair case to shower, and she busies herself with preparing the pancakes and bacon for their breakfast. It's only recently, since she'd stayed at Castle's really, that she's felt comfortable making this sort of stuff again, now that she has more positive associations with the breakfast food to help ease the pain of memories with her mother it always brings along.

The task of preparing the food for them both helps to distract her from thoughts involving the very writer who is currently washing away his own hangover upstairs, and she finds herself relaxing in to the easy rhythm, the enjoyable comfort of making breakfast.

Once she's set the pancakes to the side to wait for Castle, she hears the buzzing of her phone as it clatters impatiently against the counter top. She hurries over to answer it, checking the caller ID quickly before pressing the 'accept call' button.

"Hey, Ryan," she greets, preparing herself for the onslaught of teasing that she is more than likely going to receive from the boys.

"Why, hello there, Beckett," the detective chuckles on the other side of the line, and she sighs, slumping against the counter top. "I'm surprised you've even managed to move and reach your phone after the state you got yourself in last night."

"Oh, you're hilarious," she says dryly, tapping her fingernails against the granite surface she's leaning on. "Now, are you calling me to let me know the deal with the office search, or are you going to continue being a child?"

Ryan coughs to stifle his laughter, and she can hear Espo in the background too, listening in. "Uh, they're still going through everything," he explains, and Esposito mumbles something unintelligible she can't quite make out. "So you're good to just chill out for today. Just work off the killer hangover with Castle."

"What? No," she protests, suddenly feeling pretty annoyed that the boys decided to determine her work schedule. "I can help. Or go back to the bar and find some more information."

"Beckett," she hears Espo cut in, his voice sounding slightly more muffled than Ryan's. "None of us want you in that place longer than absolutely necessary, so just take the hint, and laze about for today. You've done enough these past few weeks."

She rolls her eyes at their concern. Whether they're just trying to look out for her or not, she can't help but feel frustrated with the amount of limitations that have been pressed onto her during this investigation.

"I'm fine guys," she insists, trying to hold back a sigh. "But, you're right. I probably won't be much help today."

"Oh, we know," Espo laughs, and she narrows her eyes, even knowing that the boys can't see her. "We went back to the house sometime after Castle slipped off his stool, left you both to your own devices to have fun for the hour before the cab we ordered came to pick you up. God knows what trouble you managed to get yourselves into."

 _Simultaneously too much, yet not enough._

"Okay," she chuckles lightly. "You've made your point. Now you guys make sure to let me know if you find anything new, okay."

"Of course," Ryan reassures her, and the three of them say their goodbyes before disconnecting the call. It leaves Beckett alone for a few minutes to fully compose herself before Castle returns from his shower, freshly dressed and smelling just like the wash stuff she'd used.

She has no idea why that fact gives her little flush of butterflies in her stomach, but it does make her realise that she needs to get a grip on all these nonsensical feelings.

Castle comes back down not long after, raking a hand through his soaked hair to rid the strands of water, and she averts her eyes, focusing on preparing the plates of breakfast food instead of how good he looks post shower. He moves up close behind her though, the warmth from his chest radiating onto her back, even through the thick layer of his sweater, swallowing her up as she drowns in it.

"Nice one, Beckett," he says, and she can hear his satisfied grin through his words as he looks over her shoulder at the plates, full of pancakes and strips of bacon. "This looks great."

He guides her over towards the breakfast bar on the other side of the counter, and the two of them sit down next to one another, tucking into their hangover meal in a kind of awkward silence. Only the sound of ringing cutlery and slight squeaks of the bar stools as they shift their weight filling in the lack of talking.

Now that the haze of sleep and, of course alcohol, has worn off, she can't help but feel an inkling of unease at the memory of the things they did last night. Even if they were undercover. The sight of Gina's clothing folded up in neat little piles next to Castle's helped bring awareness back to her in startling detail.

She isn't the one he's in a relationship with. She isn't the woman he comes home to everyday for a relaxing evening in and a night spent tangled up in each other's limbs.

Not that she wants that with him. No, of course not.

She's learned her lesson.

She can't help but linger on the feel of his strong arms wrapping themselves around her, hands smoothing over her skin as if he didn't know where to roam first. The memory makes her bite her lip, turn her head away from him slightly as she presses her thighs tighter together underneath the counter.

"Hey," Castle starts, and she closes her eyes on a quiet sigh. Of course he wants to talk now. "Have you found out what happened with the office search last night?"

Oh. Case work. Okay, she can deal with this.

"I spoke to Ryan and Espo while you were in the shower," she explains, glad that her voice catches only slightly on the word 'shower'. "They said that the cops over in the Hampton's Police Department are going over the information they found today. Hopefully some incriminating evidence will come up, something to do with the murders, but until we find out, we're under strict instructions to relax today."

"I can tell you're really pleased about that," he chuckles at the ways she's grumbling. "Are you going to head back to the safe house then?"

She glances up at the slight waver to his voice, the way his eyes have carefully focused on his plate of food and the pancake he's cutting up, rather than looking at her. He doesn't want her to go, does he?

She'd berate him for it, if she didn't kind of like the sound of spending the day chilling out here with him instead.

"Well, Espo and Ryan said that they don't want me near the club today," she starts, watching him slowly loosen up and turn towards her as she speaks. "And they're going to be pretty busy, so if you don't mind-"

" _Yes,"_ the haste at which he says the word makes her startle, and he coughs, ducking his head in embarrassment. "I mean, of course. You can stay as long as you like. That is, if you want to, obviously."

A smile finds itself forming on her face, and she tucks a stray strand of hair that's fallen out of her messy bun behind her ear.

"We should probably pick a movie then."

* * *

They spend the next few hours lazing about watching movies on Castle's Netflix account, each of them dozing off to sleep every half an hour or so, still exhausted from the lack of rest the night before. The sinfully soft cushioning of his couch makes it that much harder to resist anyway.

She's feeling a little better now that she's re-hydrated and restored her sugar levels with something to eat, but her head still spins slightly, and she's more than happy to just not move for the rest of the day.

Castle's napping on the large couch, just next to where she's curled up on the armchair, wrapped up snug in his sweater, the oversized material pooling around her. She leans her head against the arm of the chair, cheek cushioned by the soft pillows, and just watches him.

He looks a little younger as he sleeps. The flop of hair over his forehead and the way the lines on his face appear softer, with no trace of worry, make her think of the little boy he must have once been. It's only when a sudden noise from his phone sounds loud enough to wake him that she startles, realising with a flush to her cheeks that she had been staring at him.

The bubbly Skype dial tone has him shifting to sit up with a jolt, and he looks around deliriously for a moment, his eyes half closed with fatigue as he searches for what she presumes is his phone. She reaches out towards the coffee table to hand the ringing device to him, and he takes it from her with a sleepy smile of gratitude.

She shuffles back against the armchair, drawing her knees further up towards her chest as she watches him accept the call, his face transforming with delight when he sees who is on the other side.

"Alexis!" he grins, and she finds her own face warming up with a smile as she watches him with his daughter. "Hey, pumpkin, how are you?"

"Oh, it's so great here, Dad," she hears Alexis's tinny voice coming from the phone. "We're all having such a good time, and it's super beautiful too."

"That's great, honey. I'm glad."

"Plus, I think I'll still have some time to come down and see you before the summer ends," she hears the girl exclaim enthusiastically, and she has to smother her own grin behind a cushion when she sees the look of pure joy on Castle's face.

"Really?" he asks, looking suspiciously like a child being presented with a puppy for Christmas.

"Of course," Alexis replies, and she can just imagine the joyous smile on the teenagers face. "I miss you, Dad. I want to come back and see you."

Castle's face shifts into a more sombre expression, but he still smiles at his daughter with so much undisguised adoration that it makes her heart beat a little faster.

"I know," he tells her softly, and he leans back against the cushions on the couch, still holding the phone out in front of him. "I miss you too, sweetheart. I'm glad you're having a great time though, and I promise we can do all sorts of fun stuff when you come back."

Beckett finds herself drifting off to the lullaby of their conversation. The delight Alexis is sharing with her father and the sheer amount of pride and devotion practically oozing from Castle's voice as he replies warms her, giving her a strange sense of longing as she plays witness to this little snippet into their family.

After a while, Beckett hears Castle hang up, opening her eyes to see him sighing as he flops back onto the couch, dropping the phone next to him so that it bounces against the cushions.

"You okay?" she asks, somewhat hesitant as he turns to look towards her, as if he's just remembered that she's here at all.

"Yeah," he throws her a lopsided smile, nodding his head a little. "It's just…weird, not having her here."

"I can imagine," she says gently, pulling herself up into a more acceptable sitting position. "She sounds like she's having a good time though."

"I'm really glad she is," he tells her, shifting his gaze up to the ceiling beams as he drops his head on the back of the couch. "She just seems to be growing up so fast."

Beckett bites her lip, feeling a little unsure of what to say to help. But she wants to draw him out of this melancholic nostalgia he's seemingly drowned himself in.

"Maybe," she starts carefully, not wanting to push her boundaries. "But she's still young, Castle. And besides, there will be so much for you to look forward to in her future, and your own. It doesn't just end here."

Castle tilts his head to look at her for a moment, and she tries not to shift in her seat under the intensity of his gaze.

"How do you do that?"

She blinks, confusion swarming around her.

"What?"

"How do you always manage to know exactly what to say?" he says, sitting back up again. "You always seem to be able to come up with the right thing to make a situation feel better."

She huffs out a breathy laugh, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and she tilts her head down. "Well, part of my job is telling people that someone in their family has been murdered, so I guess any other situation is easy in comparison."

Castle's nodding silently when she glances back up at him, looking hilariously taken aback by her comment.

"Uh, yeah," he stutters. "You definitely have a point there."

She chuckles lightly, and they both sit in silence for a few moments, before Castle stands up, heading towards the flat screen TV and messing about with some controls underneath.

"What are you doing?" she tilts her head in curiosity, watching him fiddling about with some wires before he pulls a disk out of a case lying on the side. "Castle?"

"Just something fun to distract us," he explains, grinning mischievously as he reclaims his seat on the larger couch. The sight makes her slightly nervous, and when he hands her a game control, she just stares back at him dumbly. "Let's play a video game."

 _A what?_

"A video game?" she exclaims, turning towards the sound of the TV when the console starts up, flashing colour against the previously blank screen. "Castle, I-"

"Just relax," he interrupts her, smirking as he loads a game. "It'll be fun."

She looks at him incredulously, before glancing down at the controller she's holding precariously in both hands.

So much for a relaxing day in.

* * *

"Oh my God, what the hell did I just do?"

"Alerted the bad guys to us, apparently."

"But I didn't even press any buttons."

"Exactly, you just stood there when they came in looking for us."

Beckett growls under her breath, leaning forward so that she's closer to the screen.

"Then _help_ me," she calls to him, pushing the control stick to get her character moving. "Don't just stand there."

"What, like you were just doing?"

She turns to glare at Castle, her partner grinning smugly from his seat next to her. In an effort to see the screen more clearly, she's switched chairs and joined him on the larger couch facing the TV. She'd been too concerned with the game before to realise, but now she can feel the warmth of his thigh pressing against her own so acutely that she thinks it's actually starting to impair her judgement slightly.

Hence the sticky situation their characters in the game are now in.

"Triangle, Beckett." Castle nudges her, his entire body listing forward with the momentum of trying to fight off the bad guys.

"What?" she asks, dazed for a moment, glancing down at her controller in confusion. It's still taking her a while to get used to these things.

"Press triangle."

"Oh," she does as he says, just in time to stop her character being killed by the enemies on the screen. "Hey, I did it."

Castle ignores her, his mouth fixed in determination as he stares intensely at the screen. It amuses her to no end how immersed he becomes in these video games. She's not even taking it seriously, just having fun messing around.

Suddenly, there's a loud bang of music as a giant creature jumps out at the screen, and Beckett startles violently, yelping as she and Castle both leap back on the couch to get further away from the TV.

"Oh my god," she gasps, pressing a hand to the furious pump of her heart beneath her rib cage. "I was not expecting that."

Castle yanks her back up with a hand to her arm, drawing her attention back to the game where they have to fight off this giant creature. She finds herself getting in to it, mashing buttons and following the instructions on the screen just as Castle is, and she pokes her tongue out in concentration.

They try to work together, and she follows Castle's instructions on how to perform certain actions with button sequences, and she finds herself getting so riled up that she climbs up onto her knees. Castle jumps, yelling at the TV, and she topples slightly on top of his lap, but she's too absorbed in the game on the screen to fully take notice.

It's only when a sound from their side alerts them to the front door opening, and she stumbles into his lap in shock.

"Richard?"

Oh crap. Is that Gina?

Her eyes fly to meet Castle's, and he stares back at her in terror, the two of them finally taking in their current position. He hurries to pause the game while she stumbles off his lap, throwing herself back onto the armchair she had been napping in earlier.

Castle pats down his hair, and she glares at him, shaking her head. If he's going to be fussing with things like that, it's only going to make him look guilty for something he hasn't actually done.

"Oh, there you are," Gina's voice sings as she enters the living area. She's dressed up flawlessly in a smart blouse and pencil skirt, and Beckett can't help but shrink back in her seat slightly, noting how dismal she looks in comparison.

Baggy clothes, air dried hair, and no make-up. She feels so attractive right now.

"Gina," Castle hurries over to greet his ex-wife, and she finds herself having to turn away when he presses a kiss to the expectant pucker of her lips. "I didn't think you were coming home until tomorrow."

"Well, I wanted to surprise you," the blonde smiles, reaching a hand up to play with the collar of his shirt. "I thought we could go out and have dinner later or something."

"Uh, yeah," Castle nods, swallowing thickly. "That sounds like a great idea."

Gina turns slightly, seemingly just catching a glimpse of her sitting there in the living room, and her expression hardens slightly. She tries to sit up a little taller in her seat.

"Detective Beckett," she nods politely, and for the first time Beckett can see the strain in her smile, how tense she's holding her posture. "I see you're making a habit of wearing Rick's clothing."

Her gaze flies up to meet Castle's, and she knows he's thinking the same as her. He's teased her using the exact same words this morning, only hearing them now is making her realise how inappropriate this entire situation is.

She doesn't belong here.

She needs to go.

Ignoring the hushed voices as Gina turns to talk to Castle, her _boyfriend_ , she stands herself up, quietly slipping back into the bedroom to collect her belongings, all while trying to ignore the ongoing discussion in the next room which is no doubt about _her._

Taking a deep breath, she holds her head up and leaves the bedroom again, newly shielded with her bag and clothes from last night. She strolls right on past the bickering couple, trying to push down the surge of guilt at the knowledge this is partly her fault, muttering a quick goodbye to Castle, before leaving the house, and her partner, without another word.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you all for the lovely comments and for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

* * *

He hasn't heard from her all day.

There is no insistent buzzing from his phone to alert him to messages. No sign of the smiling photo he'd managed to snap the other day when she wasn't looking, flaring up on his screen as she calls his cell phone to arrange a meeting.

It's weird. Strange how reliant on her voice he is this soon after seeing her again. He'd be concerned for himself, if he didn't enjoy it so much.

Gina's getting pretty pissed off with his constant phone-checking though, and he can't help but see why. It's like a twitch. Every time he leaves the room, or a decent period has gone by without pressing the home button to check for notifications, he caves, looking again for any trace of the detective.

He's a little worried that he's done something wrong, that he's pushed her too far and crossed a boundary after the past couple of days. Beckett's nothing if not unpredictable with her emotions, so he wouldn't be surprised if she's suddenly freaked out about something.

Releasing a pent up sigh, he stretches out in his desk chair and pushes his arms far out in front of him until his knuckles crack. Gina walks past his office door at the same moment, cringing at the sound, before resting a hand against the door frame and leaning in slightly.

"Get much writing done?" she asks, and while he appreciates the effort she puts into sounding merely inquisitive about his productivity level, he knows she's really just trying to hold back her publisher nagging.

His mouth twists unhappily and he rubs a hand behind his neck, looking down at the dismal amount of work he's managed to produce in between all his Beckett-wallowing.

"Uh," he hedges, sending her a self-deprecating smile when she starts moving closer. "It's not the best, but I've actually just been trying to think through my plot points today and-"

"Save it, Rick," she says, frustration dripping from her tone as she moves to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders as she leans closer to the screen to get a look. "You know, this sort of thing probably wouldn't happen if you weren't so unfocused on your work and concerned about… _other_ things."

She gives his still blank phone a tap with a newly manicured nail, tutting at him, but he can sense the malice hiding underneath her tone.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she shrugs, waving her hands noncommittally as she removes them from his shoulders. "It's just that you've been more worried about running round with your cop friend than actually writing the character you based on her."

"That's because I'm helping her out with a very important undercover investigation," he argues, spinning his seat around to face her, narrowing his eyes slightly. How could Gina think that this isn't important? "There's nothing wrong with me partnering up with her, especially if it gives me knew insight and material for my next book."

Gina sighs, folding her arms over as she tugs slightly at the sleeves of her crisp floral blouse.

"I get that. I do," she clarifies, nodding at him. "But you are not a police officer, Rick. You are a writer, and your job is to finish this book. And if you keep obsessing over the woman who isn't even your actual partner, then that isn't going to happen."

With that, she stalks out of his office, sandals tapping against the wood of the floor as she disappears back down the corridor. He sits still for a moment, trying to process what's just happened, and his phone starts vibrating against the table next to him.

He almost falls out of his chair in an effort to reach it, stretching along the length of the table to grab it before the ringing stops. The beat of his heart speeds up a little, his blood rushing in excitement when he checks the caller ID and sees that it's Beckett, and he answers immediately.

"Beckett?"

"Hey, Castle," her voice sighs from the other end of the line, and he's a little disheartened when he realises how tired she sounds. "Look, can I ask you a favour?"

"Of course," he reassures her, standing up from his chair, knocking it back a little with the push of his legs. "What's up?"

There's a slight pause and some shuffling, before he hears her response.

"Bruce wants me to work tonight. He's getting a bit frustrated about the lack of blackmail I'm producing," she explains, and his fists clench at the sound of the slimy jackass's name. "So, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to have to come over."

He feels himself nodding his consent, despite the fact that she can't even see him, but he quickly clamps his mouth shut when a certain thought crosses his mind.

"Um, Gina's here tonight," he starts, and he hears the slight inhale of breath over on her side. "So I don't know if that'll work."

"Oh no, of course," she stutters, almost forcing the words out as she vocally waves him off. "I get it. I'll just explain to him that you're busy tonight."

He feels himself deflate with her words, cursing himself for his hasty explanation. Now she's going to leave and he'll have to wait even longer to see her again.

 _Unless…_

"Wait, Beckett, no," he calls, hoping that she hasn't already started to end the call. "That's not what I meant. I can still help you, just maybe not… _here."_

He's met with silence, and his limbs start fidgeting slightly as he waits for her answer.

"That…could actually work."

Grinning, he tightens the phone in his grip slightly.

"Do you have an idea?"

"Definitely," she says, and he can hear the slight smile in her voice. "An idea that gives us a way to hold up the cover, _as well as_ letting us have the opportunity to snoop around and collect some Intel ourselves."

* * *

"Where are you going?"

He freezes in his tracks, body hunched over as he grips the door handle. It's only when Gina turns to face him from where she's working on her laptop over by the table that he realises he was basically trying to sneak out without her realising.

"I, uh…" his voice staggers, and he attempts to come up with an explanation that won't result in his girlfriend maiming him. How exactly is he supposed to tell his current girlfriend that he's going to be spending the night with Beckett at Bruce's hotel next to the club?

He has a feeling it's not going to go down too well.

"I thought you were writing?"

"I never actually said that," he says without thinking, immediately regretting the decision to open his mouth at all when the vein on Gina's forehead starts to pulse.

"Are you kidding me, Rick?" she fumes, standing up and moving over towards him. "Even after that talk you're still not going to fix this?"

He swallows thickly, scanning his brain desperately for a way to make this sound better than it actually does. Gina looks like a creature lurking in the shadows from where she' standing, her hands propped on her hips, away from the warm glow of the lamp light.

This is so not going to end well for him.

"I just got a call from Beckett, and-"

" _Seriously?"_ she gapes at him, and he can't help but wince at the way her voice gets slightly scratchy when she's angry. "You're running on back to her, despite everything I just said? Do you care about my opinion at all, Rick?"

"Of course I do," he exclaims, shocked by how angry she is all of a sudden. His back presses against the wood of the front door, the hard ridges bumping against his spine. "You're my publisher for a reason, Gina."

"I'm talking about my opinions as your _girlfriend,"_ she snaps, waving her hand towards him, and the play of shadows against her face makes him shrink back even further so the wood digs into him. "Not that anyone would even know that, what with you gallivanting off with 'Nikki Heat' at every possible opportunity."

His eyes widen as she speaks, taking the hits she throws at him with his defences down. He has no idea how to fix this. He didn't even have any idea this was going on.

"That's not fair," he says, his voice pitched low. "I am helping out with this case, and you know it. So don't be dragging Beckett into this when she hasn't done anything more than do her job to the best of her ability."

Gina stares at him for a long moment, her eyes wide as they search his face. Her shoulders sag, and he can practically see the fight drain out of her.

It makes him feel awful, not like a winner by any means.

"Do you know what?" she says quietly, her eyes drifting closed for a moment. "Just do what you want. I clearly can't stop you, and I'm just too tried to try at the moment."

"Gina," he calls out, watching her turn and walk away, back to the table where her laptop sits and waits for her, the screen light casting an eerie glow over the dim shadows of the night. She doesn't respond to him, just takes a seat and continues her work, and he feels like he's been gutted, his insides spilling out to make a mess on the floor.

He contemplates going in to follow her, but a buzzing in his pocket alerts him to a text from Beckett, and he can't help but follow her call.

* * *

Beckett glances around the old hotel as they're lead up to the suite she and Castle will be using, taken aback by the wealth and prideful décor surrounding them in a place that ultimately oozes such distaste. She knows that the rich clients using these escort services must be throwing money by the bucket load at Bruce and his organisation, but this is just ridiculous.

She stands stiffly in the elevator as it guides her and Castle up to their floor, the brown and goldish tones reeking of money, and she can't help but remember the vast array of ornaments and eclectic, high end paintings on display in the lobby. It baffles her that a place that is without a doubt used primarily for sex is decorated to look like an imitation of a five star hotel.

The doors open up with a soft ' _ding',_ and she leads the way out from the elevator car in her heels, the shoes sinking into the thick carpet. Castle follows closely behind her, and she suppresses a shudder at his proximity as she feels the heat radiating from his chest to bathe against her back. He's been oddly quiet since they arrived here, and she wants to question him about it, but they only have a very short window of time to do what they came here for, and they'll need as much of it as they can get.

As soon as she found out they were being given the room next to Bruce's, she immediately started to hatch a plan. They were being given unique access to their main suspects room, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to take it with eager hands.

"Alright, here it is," she sighs, scanning her fingers over the door numbers until they reach number 34, the one they've been issued for the night. "Bruce usually leaves the club at eleven, so we have about twenty minutes to search his room for evidence before he gets back here."

"So," Castle starts, leaning around her to get a look at the door next to them. "How exactly are we supposed to get in there?"

She smirks, turning around to face him, not realise quite how close he's standing, and her chest brushes against his. Trying to focus, she pulls a strange pink contraption out from her purse, unfolding it so that the jagged end sticks up.

Castle looks delighted.

"Is that a lock pick?" he grins, thankfully remembering to keep his voice down even though the hallway appears empty. The walls are pretty damn thin here, after all. "You have a _pink_ lock pick?"

"To disguise it as a nail file," she curves her lips smugly, tilting her head so that some strands of hair fall out of her messy bun and instead feather her shoulders. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Epic cool," he nods, watching her in awe as she crouches down to study the lock. Thankfully, the amount of illegal activities going on in here on a daily basis means that security cameras catching them are clearly not a problem, for once.

"Castle, look out for anyone coming, would you?" she tells him, twisting the lock pick inside the locking mechanism on the door. "Don't just stare at my ass."

She hears a mumbled ' _roger that'_ , and laughs quietly to herself, trying to focus on getting this thing open as quickly as possible.

A few minutes later, she feels something give way as a metallic click sounds from the door.

"Did you do it?" she hears Castle ask, suddenly a lot closer to her now, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look.

"I think so," she says, voice low as she tries to shake off the tingling feeling of his breath against her cheek. "Let's get this over with."

She pushes the weighted door open, moving inside with Castle hot on her heels.

"You know," Castle begins, head tilting as he gazes around the room. "For a place that certainly likes to splash money about, you'd think they'd use key cards instead."

"I don't think security measures are something they're all too concerned about here," she says, distracted by the numerous drawers overfilled with papers scattering the room. She has no idea where to start.

Bruce's room is full of clutter, filled to the brim with expensive gadgets and pieces of art, organised with no apparent pattern or order, just the spendings of a man with too much money and little idea how to use it. There could be evidence hidden _anywhere_ in here.

"Okay," she huffs out a breath, scanning over the room once again, pausing to drag Castle away from a pair of 3D goggles he's messing about with and grab his attention again. "You cover the right side of the room, and I'll go through the left. If you see anything that looks suspicious, or mentions the names of any of the victims, you let me know, okay?"

With that, the two of them set off. Searching through the copious papers littering the floor and surfaces, scanning through drawers for anything that so much as resembles a file. They really don't have much time, and they need to find s _omething._

She feels the beads of sweat starting to gather on her forehead, stress and panic swarming inside her stomach as she begins to mentally count down the amount of time they likely have left. She's worried they're not going to find anything, that he'll walk in and spot them right here and blow their cover, that he's going to get away with-

"Beck- uh, Houghton, I think I have something."

Spinning around on her heel, she shoves the drawer she'd been filing through closed, pushing down the pieces of files still poking out of the cracks. Rushing over towards him, she glances over his shoulder, trying to get a better look at the sheets of note paper he's found.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," his shoulder rises underneath her chin as he shrugs, handing the sheets over. They look like they'd been hastily ripped from a notepad, handwritten scrawls all over them. "I just saw that it has some of the victim's names written on them, so I thought it might be relevant."

She tilts her head in curiosity, taking the sheets from him as she studies them closely, squinting her eyes against the dull beam of lamp light.

"There are a bunch of random measurements here," she mumbles, keeping her voice low as she speaks. "Under each girl's name. Maybe drug doses?"

Castle opens his mouth to answer, when they suddenly hear the boom of Bruce's voice yelling at someone from outside. They both startle, gazes flying to meet one another in horror, and she quickly throws the papers back on top of the clattered mess of the desk, snatching Castle's phone from his jean pocket to take a quick picture of the evidence.

Shoving on his shoulder, she urges him forward, towards the door as the noises keep on getting closer. He fumbles for the door knob, and she presses against his back, trying to hurry him up, when they both fall out into the corridor, the door swinging open to let them out.

As she spots her suspect texting on his phone while he strolls on up to his room, his eyes fixated on the glow of the screen, Beckett yanks the door closed behind her. She tries to take a moment, regulate her breathing and compose herself before Bruce gets suspicious that they're up to something. That would just end badly for all of them.

"Houghton," the sleaze smirks as he makes his way over to her, brushing a hand down her bare arm. She can't resist shuddering at the unwanted touch. "I see you're going to be working _hard_ tonight."

Beckett grits her teeth, clenching her fists by her sides, trying to channel the repulsed anger through squeezing her fists, rather than reaching out to grab this guy's neck. She can feel Castle standing stiff and statue like behind her, tension practically vibrating off of him as he places a hand at her waist, smoothing the material of her dress there with his thumb.

It helps to calm her a little, focus on the juxtaposition of his gentle touch rather than the sly once over her 'boss' is currently giving them.

"Mr Castle," he continues, stopping his leering and instead directing his gaze to the writer standing almost protectively behind her. "Could you give me and moment alone with our client, please?"

She senses Castle's tension almost immediately, the contraction of his muscles fusing all the way down to his slightly tighter grip on her waist.

 _So not the time to get overprotective, Castle._

Twisting around to face him, she leans in close, fuelled with adrenaline to keep up their cover, and places a hand on his chest before whispering in his ear.

"Go," she tells him softly, pushing him gently with her palm. "I'll be there in a minute."

He stares at her for a long moment, eyes hard and searching, before she sees some of the stiffness in his posture relax, seeping out of him with a heavy sigh. Flicking a quick glance to Bruce, he gives the curve of her waist one last reassuring squeeze, before unlocking their bedroom door and shutting himself inside.

Oh gosh.

 _Their bedroom._

"So, Houghton," she closes her eyes for a brief moment, gearing herself up to play to this sleaze bag's standards. "Do you remember our talk about this little…a _rrangement?"_

Remember? It's not like she could forget the sheer discomfort she felt earlier today when he leaned in close and whispered the slimy words in her ear, each consonant clicking off his tongue and vibrating around her head.

"Yes, sir."

"Then I trust you'll take the opportunity to complete that little task tonight?" he tilts his head, eyes squinting in a creepy imitation of a smile that makes her want to wrap her arms around herself and sink into a ball on the floor. Or maybe just kick his ass. "I want you to collect proof of this affair. Something we can use to leverage a client this wealthy and well known would be worth a fortune. And I trust you to get it for me."

He gives her another once over, eyes lingering hungrily at her bare legs for a moment, raking his gaze over the exposed skin not covered by the skirt of her dress, before moving towards his bedroom. She starts to do the same, eager to get away from the endlessly unsettling vibe this guy gives off.

"Oh, and Houghton," he calls to her, and she freezes, glancing over her shoulder while keeping her hand on the doorknob. "These walls are pretty thin, so I expect to hear clarification that you're showing Mr Castle a good time tonight, are we clear?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pushes his way inside his room, leaving her standing there in shock, gripping the handle of the door.

Well shit.

* * *

"Wait, we have to w _hat?"_

"Will you _keep your voice down?"_

Castle halts in front of her, mouth hanging agape and forming the words he was about to say. Their room is actually pretty nice, kept up like the rest of the building, thankfully, but the presence of nothing much more than a double bed is making her head spin.

Careful to keep her voice low, she approaches her partner, glancing towards the wall connecting with Bruce's room warily.

"He can hear us through the wall," she explains, tone hushed as she leans up to his ear. "They're really thin, so he'll have a pretty clear idea of what we're doing…or _not_ doing, while he's in there."

He blinks at her, gaze zipping to the far wall to eye the large bed in the centre of the room, before turning back to her, a strange expression on his face.

"And by 'what we're doing', you mean-"

"Yes, Castle," she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. Not necessarily with him, just this entire situation. "It means what you think it means."

"Then, we'll just have to…fake it somehow, right?"

It's her turn to stare at him, the lack of comprehension at his words leaving her wide eyed and blank faced. Her heart is speeding up a little inside her chest, constricting with pent up anxiousness and worry that's been building up for the past few days.

"Houghton?"

She shakes her head, clearing her fogged vision and focusing on him again. "Sorry, what?"

He shuffles, looking uneasy all of a sudden, and he shoves his hands deep into his pants pockets, his shoulders hunching up by his ears.

"We're going to have to convince him that we're, you know-"

"Having sex?" she states bluntly.

His eyebrows raise, but she can see the inklings of a smile starting to twitch at his lips. " _Yes,_ " he stresses, taking a step closer towards her. "We're going to have to pretend we're following through with this affair, so… how exactly are we supposed to do that? Convincingly, I mean?"

Biting down on her bottom lip, she rocks forward on the balls of her feet, turning to rake her gaze over the silk like sheets of the double bed. This is going to be slightly more difficult than she anticipated.

"I don't know," she says, voice spoken on a soft sigh, only just audible to her partner standing right next to her.

She notices him tilt his head out of the corner of her eye, and she turns to face him curiously. "What is it?"

"I think I have an idea," he tells her, his face lighting up with beams of enthusiasm as he takes a step closer to the bed before leaning down and pressing on the comforter with one hand.

"Castle?" she asks, moving to stand next to him. "What idea?"

He doesn't answer her for a few moments, and she's half tempted to twist his ear and grab his attention, when he practically jumps up next to her.

"We can bounce on the bed," he lowers his voice to mask his excitement, turning to show her his huge grin as he waves his arm at her. "Make the springs creak so that he thinks we're getting busy utilising it."

She gapes at him, jaw unhinged as she stares, dumbstruck. Is he _serious?_

"Bounce on the bed?" she repeats, not able to hide the disbelief in her voice at the suggestion. "Are you kidding me, Castle?"

"What?" he says defensively, pouting slightly in a way that almost makes her want to reach up and pinch his cheeks. _Oh jeez, Beckett. Get a grip would you?_ "It's a great plan."

"It's a ridiculous plan," she glares, not caring that she's shooting him down right now, not when doing so is the only thing preserving her dignity. "I am not jumping on the bed."

"Why not?" he asks, sounding affronted that she would even argue the opportunity. "It's a great idea. Unless of course you just want to go for the real thing and- _ahh, apples, apples!"_

She releases the hold she has on his ear, rolling her eyes at his yelp. She wasn't about to let him finish that sentence, not wanting to deal with the images and thoughts it would inevitably place in her mind. Besides, his cry probably would have sounded like the most convincing noise they can probably make right now for this situation.

Wait.

Castle's still rubbing his ear, whining pitifully, but she just watches him, a steady twitching at her cheeks. When he turns and sees her gleeful smirk, he glares at her, growling slightly under his breath, before he freezes, eyes widening as they fly back to meet hers.

"Did that sound like-"

"Yep."

"…So you're going to keep pinching me?"

She laughs, slightly taken aback by the genuine trace of fear swirling on his face.

"No, Castle," she smiles at him, shaking her head in slight amusement. "But at least we know you've got that area covered."

"So we're jumping on the bed?"

She takes a moment to think about it, and realises that they don't actually have many other options. Well, any options that are less awkward, anyway.

"So long as we never speak of this again," she explains to him seriously.

"Not a word."

"Good."

They stand there, staring at one another for a few lengthy moments, before Castle claps his hands suddenly, and the noise makes her jolt. He slips off his shoes and places a hand against the wall for balance, before precariously climbing up to stand on the mattress.

"Wait, we're doing it right now?"

"Uh… _yeah,"_ he looks at her, befuddled as he shrugs. "Do you really think he'd expect me to keep you waiting this long?"

Her eyes widen and she feels her cheeks flush red. Dipping her head down, she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, unfastening her heels and sliding them off her feet, before she takes a deep breath and climbs to stand on top of the comforter.

They spend a few moments trying to awkwardly avoid one another's eyes while they try to find their footing on the malleable surface, before a little voice inside her head nudges her forward, telling her that the sooner they get this over with, the sooner she can relax.

 _Well, here goes nothing._

She shuffles the weight underneath her slightly, trying to find her centre of gravity. Leaning a palm against the wall to steady herself, she bends her knees slightly, the mattress springs compressing with the force. There's a subtle squeak, and she lifts her head to look at Castle, who grins at her, following her movements more forcefully, and jumping on the bed.

He looks so delighted with the creaky noises he's making, that she has to hold in her laughter, trying to instead focus on maintaining her balance and not toppling over. It seems to be working, the squeaks making a loud enough sound that the noises should be heard on the other side of the wall.

Once he starts gaining a bit of a rhythm, she joins in, making little jumps up and down on the mattress, not being able to hide the childish grin fighting to form on her lips. It causes Castle to stumble slightly with the shift of balance, and he grunts, his shoulder slamming into the wall.

She looks at him, and tries to smother a laugh, holding both hands over her mouth, and he pulls a face at her, waving his arm towards her side of the bed.

"What?" she tilts her head, making sure to keep her voice low enough for only him to hear over the creaking of the bed springs.

"Your turn," he nods, and she just looks at him while continuing to bounce, confused as to what he's referring to. "Make a noise."

She stumbles to a stop, face burning with a flaming red as he smirks at her, looking so pleased with himself that she just wants to push him off the bed altogether. Before she has time to collect herself, her partner takes a step closer to her, dipping the centre of the mattress, and shoots out a hand, squeezing her ribs.

" _Castle,"_ she cries out, yelping with laughter as he sends shivers down the sensitive skin, a place that just so happens to be immensely ticklish to the touch. Squirming to get away from him, she gasps out heaving pants of laughter, gulping in air as she tries to fight for breath.

He releases her with a wide grin, and she gasps in another few breaths, trying to collect enough air, when she realises what he's just done.

What he's just made her sound like.

Shoving him playfully in retaliation, he stumbles backwards with a grunt, grabbing onto her hands to stop himself from falling backwards. He doesn't let them go, and they just hold onto each other, bouncing in rhythm as they try to smother their laughter, pinching and poking one another to provoke the suggestive noises that just make them want to crack up even more.

She doesn't understand how he's managed to make something as awkward as this fun, but he surprises her again by bringing his light into her life.

After a while, they grow tired, chests heavying with the exertion of jumping nonstop, and Beckett nudges him, slowing down slightly to speak in his ear.

"I think we can stop now," she tells him, but is immediately greeted with an offended huff.

"What, you think I couldn't last any longer, Houghton?" he smirks darkly at her, the hunger in his eyes only just becoming apparent when she notices the dark navy of his irises. "Because my reputation is at stake here."

"If it's your reputation you're worried about," she throws back to him, not being able to drag her eyes away from the captivating hold off his. "Then shouldn't you be more concerned about me _not_ being able to last."

His eyes widen, and his rhythm stumbles. Staggering back, he tries to regain his footing, but he catches the wave of one of her bounces, and he steps off the edge of the mattress, clinging to her as he brings her toppling down with him.

She cries out in surprise, falling on top of him as he lands on his back with a sudden _thud_ on the floor.

They lie there, chests heaving as they try to catch their bearings again. Her heart is thrashing wildly in the cage of her ribs, thumping against her sternum so hard she's actually surprised it hasn't burst out altogether. The rush of her pulse is thick in her ears, and she takes a moment to just breathe through it, close her eyes against the room spinning above her and just relax into the warm body beneath her.

"Well, at least he'll know you've finished."

She startles, opening her eyes and propping herself up on her elbows, only to be greeted by the sight of Castle beneath her. His eyes are crinkling as he smiles up at her, his face looking flushed and exhausted, but still completely pleased with himself.

The rise and fall of his chest mirrors her own, and she finds the stead rhythm soothing. They're so close, close enough that she can make out each individual swirl of blue tones in his eyes, and she wishes she could just take a moment to drown in the sea of them, forget about the world and get lost in him.

She wonders if this is what it would be like to wake up to him in the morning.

A jolt of panic surges through her, sliding into her veins and leaking fear in its wake. She can't be doing this. _He_ can't be doing this.

Holy shit. She still has feelings for him.

 _Strong_ feelings.

This is a disaster.

Pushing herself off his chest, she straightens up, trying to flatten down the mess of her hair as Castle stands himself back up, wincing at the likely pull in his back.

She tries to push down her concern, and instead focus on her mission for tonight. Without a word, she takes Castle's phone off the nightstand and texts the images of the notes taken on the murder victims to Ryan, before closing the message app down, and finally allowing exhaustion to wave over her.

Castle's busying himself looking around the hotel room, playing about with some little animal ornaments on top of the drawers, and she shakes her head at him, biting down on her smile. She eyes the bed, the large, comfortable surface that she just wants to collapse onto and let her dreams take her.

But there is only one bed in here. And there are two of them.

And they both need to sleep here until morning.

"Hey, Beckett?" she turns at the low rumble of his voice approaching her. "Sleep, if you're tired, I can just put a blanket on the floor."

That thought gives her a horrible sinking feeling, and she suddenly can't stand the idea of him not sleeping on the bed because of her.

"No, no," she shakes her head vehemently. "It's fine. The bed's large enough for both of us. Unless…unless you don't want to because it wouldn't be appropriate considering you and Gina."

He blinks at her, looking suspiciously like he's just remembered his girlfriend back at his house, before he shrugs, chuckling nervously.

"Oh no, that's fine," he tells her, but she's not completely convinced. "I can just sleep on top of the covers."

She watches him for a moment, scanning over his face to try to get a proper read on him right now, but he's hiding whatever his issue is too well.

And she needs to get some sleep.

"Okay then," she nods decisively. "If you're happy with that, then go ahead."

She moves on over to the right side, fluffing up one of the pillows and trying to straighten out the mess they've made of the comforter. "Just make sure you don't hog the blankets, because I'll push you off the bed again."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely feedback and taking the time to read and comment. I really appreciate it and hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

 ** _Twitter: dappledshadows_**

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops** _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

* * *

Dawn calls for her when she rolls over the next morning, nudging at her eyelids to probe them open to the daylight. She groans, lifting a curled fist to rub the sleep out of her eyes, sighing in frustration as she flops against her back.

Her eyes open reluctantly, and she can't help but wince against the surge of brightness flaring against her. She turns her face away from the window, trying to shield herself from the too bright morning sun, only to be greeted with something else that makes her want to melt.

Castle is lying on his stomach on the other side of the bed, arms spread wide on either side of him, and she can see the shine of sunlight ruffling his hair from where he's turned away from her, his face mashed against the pillows.

Last night he'd let her use the bathroom first, and she got herself ready for bed as quickly as possible, before jumping under the sheets and throwing them over her head, feigning sleep after he'd finished in there himself. Thankfully, she had been tired enough to drift off quickly rather than lie there for hours on end thinking about the admission that she's been hiding from herself, one that she's only just realised.

She still has feelings for him.

The steady thump of her heart begins to grow harder as it pounds against her ribs, like an animal wanting to escape from a cage, eager to be released and pounce on him. She allows her eyes to rake over him, the span of his back underneath his sleep shirt, not to mention the glorious curve of his ass that peeks out from the sheets he's asleep on top of.

She seriously needs to get a grip before she does something stupid.

Pushing herself up, she clambers out of the bed, eager to shower off her thoughts and just get the day started so she can distract herself. The bathroom is just through the connecting door in front of her, but she suddenly pauses in thought.

She doesn't want to make too much noise and wake him. Not just because it's early, but also to avoid the awkwardness that is undoubtedly going to ensue.

It's not like they actually _did_ anything, so why does she feel like she's running out on a one night stand the morning after?

Shaking her head to shove away the thought, Beckett decides to forgo the shower until she returns to the safe house. That way, she can run the boys down with the new information she and Castle had found out, as well as take the time to compose herself a little before going to work back at the bar later on this evening.

Leaving him here probably isn't the best idea, but when faced with the alternative 'morning after but not really because we never actually did anything', she can't help but see the appeal. So, after hastily pulling on her clothes in the bathroom, she scans the desk below the dresser mirror for a spare piece of paper and a pen, rushing to scrawl a note explaining that she has to rush to head back to talk to the boys before work, and that she didn't want to wake him up. It's a true - if not pretty crap excuse - but she's sure he'll understand. Or at least, she hopes he will.

Placing the note delicately on the pillow next to him, she takes a second just to watch the stroke of his eyelashes shadowing against his cheeks, before she pulls herself away, closing the door behind her with a subtle _snick_ as she goes.

She can't help but pick up on the strange sense of melancholy that's slowly seeping through her bloodstream as she walks down the corridor towards the elevator. It's almost as if part of her is longing for something. For someone.

She almost feels as though she's just left Castle alone in bed after an intimate night together, and it eats her up. Not only because she won't be there as he wakes up, but also because she has no right to be. He has a girlfriend. He has Gina.

He doesn't belong with her.

* * *

She wrings her hair out again, squeezing it with her towel as she listens to the boys go over the current progress with the case. They're all gathered in the little kitchen downstairs, spreading out files and photographs on the table as they attempt to cramp themselves inside.

It's tough, sharing such a small space, but seeing as she spends practically every day with Ryan and Esposito anyway, it's not too bad. Just like having to share a bedroom with your annoying siblings.

She at least feels more refreshed after her shower, taking a bit of time to just relax in a baggy t-shirt and leggings with no make-up while she can. Before she has to doll herself up to be scrutinised again in a few hours.

"So, you found those sheets in his drawer, right?" Espo asks, studying the photos she'd taken last night and sent to the boys. He's leaning against one of the kitchen counters, while Ryan shuffles the papers out, looking as though he's trying to come up with some sort of coherent organisation of the evidence. "After he, you know, accidentally left his door open."

Rolling her eyes at him, she dumps the still damp towel on the back of a chair, propping her hip against it as she crosses her arms over.

"Yes, of course," she says, trying to fight a smirk. "We obtained that photographic evidence by perfectly legal means."

Ryan chuckles where he's crouched over the table, lining up the final few photos as he glances up at her with a smile.

"Well let's just hope it helps us build a defence against this sleaze bag," he says, standing up and straightening his back with a wince. "We're going to need it if we can't find some rock solid evidence to convict this guy for murder. Right now we only have him on drug charges and prostitution."

"They still haven't managed to find a break in the case?" she sighs, shoulders drooping slightly in disappointment. "He's going to kill again if we don't stop him soon."

"We know," Espo chimes in, placing the phone back on the counter as he moves closer to them both. "And the Hampton's PD is considering the idea of just charging him for the drug and escort offences, especially seeing as that's the only damage he's done over here."

She can't stop her mouth from dropping over in shock.

" _What?"_ she exclaims, pushing off the chair and storming over to stand in front of Esposito. "They don't want to charge him for the murder of _three women?_ Are you serious?"

Ryan places a hand on her shoulder, moving around her so that he's standing in front of her now.

"We know, we're not happy about it either," he explains, shaking his head. "But they're just worried if they don't charge him with this then he'll get away scot-free."

Gritting her teeth, she stares at the detectives in front of her, determination in both of their eyes to help her see this through and get justice.

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

* * *

The sun is just beginning to set over the horizon, streaking ribbons of orange and red across the sky and the water as she sneaks into the alleyway later that evening to take the back entrance into the club. Unlike the well-kept front door to attract clients, the back walkways remain largely ignored in terms of cleanliness, with grime and other unspeakable substances on the bricks walls, needles from dirty syringes crunching underneath her heels as she walks over them.

At first it surprised her that the club was so…typical, rather than cleaned up and reeking money like she'd assumed. But once she realised that this was a night club open to the public and any potential clients would be taken to Bruce's hotel, things made a little more sense.

Why spend the money here when all anyone is interested in are the girls?

Strangely, she can't yet hear the boom of music thudding through the walls to make her ears ache, and she quickly pulls out her phone to check the time. The home screen lights up the dim shadows of the alleyway, giving her a too clear glimpse of how disgusting this place really looks, and she squints against the brightness to read the white numbers.

Damn. She's arrived here early.

Sighing, she pushes her way inside, not wanting to linger in the alley for any longer than necessary, and figures she'll just head to the changing rooms in the back until her work shift starts. The bar looks strangely quiet without all the patrons dotted around, and of course with the absence of girls dancing and flirting to impress them.

It sends a shiver down her spine, and she scrunches her toes together uneasily inside her towering heels.

She hates this place, and she hates having to pretend to tolerate all this disgusting behaviour from the men, and the couple of women, who come here. But she wants to get justice. She wants to get this awful man locked away for life so he can't hurt anyone again. And unfortunately, that's not going to happen with only drug charges, so she'll have to stick it out until they can catch Bruce on the murder.

The lights are still off, leaving the club blanketed in a sheet of darkness as she trails her way through to the far corridor, trying to avoid bumping against the tables and chairs scattered across the room as she goes. Making the turning, she runs a palm across the wall beside her, feeling her way as she follows the dim light coming from the changing room on the end.

A couple of metres away from the open door, she suddenly halts, freezing her steps at the sound of voices coming from within the room. Muffled and slightly hurried, she can still tell the two of them distinctly apart.

 _Maybe there are people here after all._

A man's voice, deeper and sounding a lot more persuasive hits her ears drums, and she holds her breath in anticipation.

It's Bruce.

"It'll be fine, you'll enjoy it," she hears him say, his voice crooning in that creepy way that has her imagining him sliding up close, _too close,_ in an effort to overpower whichever poor girl he's speaking to. "And if you want your money, then you will do as I say."

It sends shivers crawling down each knob of her spine, and she's half tempted to run in there, slam this guy's face against a table and watch in satisfaction as she beats him around a little before hauling his ass into custody.

But she does her job, and she stays put.

"But…" a small voice sounds, and Beckett has to lean forward, strain her ears to try and hear from her frozen position in the darkness. "But, I never said that I wanted-"

"When did this ever become about something _you_ wanted?" Bruce's voice slithers out to her, reaching her much more clearly as she clenches her jaw in disgust. "You work for _me_ , remember?"

There's a quiet snuffling, almost as if someone's crying in there, and Beckett uses every ounce of her self-control not to storm inside. Instead, she creeps forward slightly, _slowly,_ cautious not to step on any creaking floorboards that might alert them to her presence. Making it to the partially closed door, she presses her back against the wall, flattening herself back with her palms up so that she can slip behind it and hide without knocking against the wood.

Inching forward, she waits until she's close enough to see the glare of light through the gap between the hinges, and leans forward to take a peek.

Her stomach drops in dread when she realises who Bruce is trying to intimidate.

"Don't make things worse for yourself, Annaliese," Bruce confirms her suspicions as the girl wipes a tear from her cheek, trying to straighten up her back and inject a little confidence to her posture.

Beckett can't help the flare of pride at the sight, wishing desperately she could help the girl without jeopardising this chance for an off-hand confession.

 _At least it'll be worth it when the sick son of a bitch is locked behind bars and won't be able to touch her again._

When she started working undercover, she had quickly realised that most of the girls around here wouldn't communicate much, keeping themselves to themselves, and only interacting when they needed help with something. Beckett was happy to do the same herself, not one to be overly social most of the time anyway, but when the opportunity did arise, she took the chance to talk to some of the girls to see if she could squeeze any information out of them.

One of those girls was Annaliese, a tiny little thing who could barely be nineteen, who had shared with Beckett tearfully that the only reason she was here at all was because her father died, leaving her unable to pay for college or even a suitable house. Which is how she ended up working here as a last resort.

Although she hadn't found out anything pertinent to the case from her, Beckett couldn't help but feel a strange affection towards her. The young girl with a tragic family history not unlike her own, who ended up in the worst possible place.

It makes her protective over her, and she's always sure to check in whenever she's working.

And now it turns out she's unwillingly gotten herself involved in something dodgy with Bruce.

The man in question suddenly makes a grab for Annaliese's arm, and the girl yelps just as Beckett startles, watching from the other side of the door. But Bruce just hands her something, something too small for Beckett to make out this far away, and then proceeds to close her fist tight around it.

He whispers something in Annaliese's ear, and Beckett growls under her breath when she realises she can't hear what he's saying any more. She leans in closer, holding her breath to try and focus, but nothing. Only the sound of her throbbing pulse beating in her ears.

A rhythm of footsteps suddenly starts approaching behind her, down the other end of the hallway, accompanied by the hum of girlish chatter.

"Damn it," she curses under her breath, sliding back out from her hiding place behind the door, knowing that the other girls showing up for today's shift will have Bruce immediately slinking back into the shadows he likes to spend his time in.

She allows the other women to pass her by as they head into the changing room, giving them all a nod and a smile of greeting as they go, before slumping against the wall. Sighing, she pulls her phone out of her purse and rakes the fingers of her other hand through her hair, wincing at the pull of hairspray making it feel stiff to the touch.

Shooting off a quick text to Espo, she briefly explains the conversation she's just overheard so that the boys can alert the Hamptons PD, before tucking the phone back down into the depths of her bag, not wanting to risk it being seen.

Maybe she'll get a chance to subtly interrogate Annaliese at some point tonight; at least that way she might be able to slot the pieces together as to what was going on. Besides, she doesn't want the girl to get herself hurt or in trouble.

Especially because from the looks of it Bruce was handing her drugs. And that could mean he's targeting her as his next victim.

* * *

She tries to shrug the events of the morning off and carry on with her shift, attempting to forget about what she'd witnessed with Bruce and Annaliese so that she can just delve into her cover, push aside all thoughts of the case and instead do her job.

Even after the past few weeks, it's still difficult to do.

Thankfully, her main job is to waitress for the bar rather than… _entertain_ the visiting clients, something that she'd been adamant about when she'd agreed to this damn operation in the first place. Undercover or not, she refused to push those boundaries just because she's the only person acceptable for the job.

The waitressing skills she'd acquired just before the attention of the modelling agency was drawn to her at least mean she knows what she's doing, although lecherous guys unashamedly staring at is ass was certainly new.

She squints against the harsh flashing lights around her, the sweaty heat starting to soak in now that patrons have begun to file inside, and she tries to hold back a wince at the uncomfortable feel of it all. A group of guys hidden by a table in the shadows motion over to her, waving their arms and beckoning for her attention in a way she assumes they think is appealing, when it's actually just cringe-worthy.

Rolling her eyes, she picks up the empty tray and carries it over to the men near the back of the club, plastering on a fake smile and rolling her shoulders back in an effort to loosen herself up, relax a little to fully sell her cover. The skirt of her dress, tight over her hips and around her lower half where it ends at her thighs, feels suffocating suddenly, as if to protect her from the roaming eyes of men in here as they mentally undress her. She's at least thankful that this particular dress is loose at the top, falling in draping ribbons over her chest, hopefully preventing her from being stared at too much tonight.

Although she wouldn't bet on it.

"Hey, sexy," one of the guys grins at her, raking his eyes up and down her figure when she eventually makes it over. "You dressed like you're looking for a good time tonight."

She ignores the disgusting remarks, staring blankly at the man as he sends her a toothy smile, trying desperately to keep her composure and not just clock this guy with a swift kick from the heels he appears to be so desperately fond of. This kind of stuff is getting more difficult to put up with by the day.

"Can I get you gentlemen something?" she asks instead, scanning her eyes quickly over the four men seated around the table as she does her best to remain pleasant, when she'd instead prefer to knock out a few of their teeth.

"Oh, you can get me something alright," another idiot pipes up, staring directly at her boobs and not even attempting to hide his perverse observations. "Feel free to get down on your knees and-"

"To drink," she clarifies harshly, her jaw twitching in barely held back anger. "Can I interest any of you in something to drink?"

The men shift in their seats, smirking as they watch her, throwing out a few orders for her to take back to the bar. The flash of coloured lights skirting over their faces every few seconds reveals all of the hungry gazes prowling over her, before they're swallowed back up by the shadows. It makes her shiver, goose-bumps prickling over her exposed skin as she hurries away to collect the drinks.

She relays the order to the bartender, before leaning against the bar. She takes a quick glance around to ensure there aren't any people lingering close by and she pulls her phone surreptitiously out from her bra, waking it up and quickly scanning through to her contacts.

A couple of missed calls from Castle, but no messages.

Sighing, she allows her body to slump forwards a little, and she tucks the stray curl of hair that's fallen from her bun that's tickling her nose back behind her ear. She scans over his number on her phone, hovering her finger over the 'message' button, wanting to text him, wanting to draw a little bit of comfort from him while she has to endure this terrible job.

But she won't.

She's lasted this long - the whole summer - without his help. She doesn't need him.

Closing the message app down, she slide her phone back into her bra, taking a moment to compose herself before she heads back over to the lecherous group of men on the back tables she has to deliver the drinks to.

The bartender only gives her a couple of minutes, and then she's reluctantly making her way back over there, tray of drinks held precariously in one hand, supported slightly by the other, as she tries to regain some composure. Hopefully that way she won't be tempted to rip these guys' limbs off.

Unfortunately, the asshole who had been trying it on with her earlier is the one who spots her approaching first, and his eyes darken as a wave of green spotlight skims over him. He's pretty young, at least compared to most of the older-looking guys who end up in here hiding from their wives, and definitely not bad looking. She she can't help the slither of unease creeping up her spine as she gets closer to them.

"Look who's decided to join us again," he calls out to her, alerting his buddies to her approach. "Change your mind, gorgeous? Because I will be happy to tip you."

She almost has to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from throwing a quip back at him, but somehow she refrains and hands the drinks out to them, turning around to leave without another word. Heading back to the bar, she ignores the catcalls and distasteful bellowing that follows her, before she feels a strong hand grip hold of her shoulder.

Whoever it is swings her around to face them, and she's helpless to do anything about it. A quick glance at her pursuer shows her it's the same guy again, apparently not able to take a hint and instead going for a third time lucky.

"What's the rush, gorgeous?" he leers at her, ignoring the very pointed glare she gives him as she yanks her shoulder harshly out of his grip. "It's what you're here for right? To find someone to pay you for a good time."

"I'm afraid that I don't offer those kinds of services," she explains bluntly, trying to keep an air of politeness, but judging from the twitch in this guy's eyes at her response, she's not managed to pull it off so well.

His eyes narrow at her and he leans closer, enough so that she can smell the foul whiff of cigarettes and beer staining his breath.

"See, that's not what I've been hearing," he begins, voice low and edged with a sinister kind of undertone that makes her skin want to start crawling. "Because, from what I've gathered, you're currently being paid to act as a fuck toy for that mystery novelist, right?"

She swallows harshly, glaring daggers towards him as she clenches her fists, fingernails scratching against the plastic of the tray gripped in one fist.

"What's the matter?" he chuckles, shaking his head, and she backs away when he starts to advance on her, taking a quick scope of her surroundings to see if anyone else is around. A search shows that the other girls are all occupied dancing on the polls or serving other men. Great. "Are you only allowed to be fucked by him now? Because that would be a real shame. A body like yours should be appreciated by the wider public, baby. Not only some rich man-slut who has the money to pay for all the pieces of meat he wants to fu-"

The material of his shirt is clenched in her fist before she even knows what she's doing, and suddenly his face is right up next to hers, looking slightly more freaked out than he did five seconds ago.

"The only people that are allowed to touch me are those who have my permission," she tells him, voice dark, low enough that no one else can hear her over the thump of the music. "People who actually respect me, just like him. You, on the other hand, are a pathetic waste of space who needs to spend some time in the trash while he learns to respect women."

With that she shoves him away, taking perverse glee in the way he stumbles in to a chair, looking completely dumbstruck at her outburst.

It was a risk, yes, but she can help but feel pleased at having put the idiot back in his place. As she stalks away from him, she can hear the pitiful call of " _you stupid bitch,"_ following her back to the bar until it's drowned out by the heavy club music.

She finds herself smirking as she heads off to take the order for the next round of drinks, an extra sway to her hips this time.

She feels so much better now.

* * *

When the last guy is finally escorted out of the bar by another girl, staggering the whole way and drowning in alcohol, Beckett releases an exhausted sigh and closes her eyes in relief as the vibration from her phone indicates the end of her shift.

She heads back to the changing room down the hallway, waving to some of the other women as they leave, all while trying to keep an eye out for any glimpse of Bruce.

Her boss hasn't been anywhere in sight today, and she finds that fact kind of creepy. He's usually watching them all work, observing from the shadows somewhere. Not tonight.

She can't help thinking he might be up to something instead.

Annaliese has been pretty absent tonight as well, only turning up to waitress a few tables before she disappeared back to the changing rooms again. It's kind of frustrating that Beckett didn't have the chance to talk to her and maybe find out what happened earlier this evening. Hopefully she'll get an opportunity next time.

Heading through the back hallway to reach the changing room, Beckett takes a moment to just let the exhaustion rise in a wave over her head, struggling to fend it off after a night trying to distract herself and not punch the copious amounts of men ogling her ass tonight. She slips off her heels as soon as she gets inside the dressing room, flopping herself down on a bench to rub at the sore soles of her feet and stretch her toes after being constrained all night.

It's officially after hours now, so she's at least thankful that the room is empty, allowing her some temporary solace as she tries to compose herself after the stress of tonight. She gets the day off tomorrow, at least.

Well, she'll still be undercover, so it's technically not 'off', but still.

She shrugs her leather jacket on, rolling her shoulders inside the smooth material as it settles coolly against her skin. It's familiar, a protective blanket wrapping around her that lets her feel more like herself again. More like Detective Kate Beckett, rather than Houghton the high end prostitute who works at scummy clubs during the night.

Removing her phone from its temporary keep safe in her bra, she's about to tuck it away into her jacket pocket when she pauses for a moment, noticing the voicemail alert from Castle.

Her heart beats a little faster where it's trapped inside the cavern of her chest, and although she does her best to resist, she finds herself immediately opening it up. She adjusts the volume down low, and presses the phone to her ear so that no one else can hear anything.

" _Hey, Houghton,"_ he says _,_ and she finds herself drawing her knees together, tucking herself up a little so that she can hear the soothing timbre of his voice more clearly. " _I got your note this morning, and I hope work wasn't too gruelling tonight. I've tried calling you a few times to see what's going on tomorrow, but I guess you couldn't answer? I don't know, that was a pretty stupid idea really seeing as I knew you were at the club, but…yeah. Anyway, I was just wondering if you could give me a call sometime tomorrow to let me know if we're going to be doing anything. And you could also tell me what you're wearing there tonight, okay thanks, bye!"_

The dial tone sounds abruptly in her ear when he hangs up, and she sits there for a few minutes, startled, before a burst of laughter escapes from her chest. _That ridiculous man._

She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, cringing at the smear of black from her makeup that comes off on her thumb. When she looks down at the phone again she smiles fondly and strokes his name on the screen of her contacts list, before catching herself and jolting away. Beckett tucks her phone inside her jacket pocket as she stands up, brushing the creases out of her dress.

Cursing herself under her breath for her pathetic girlishness, she grabs her bag, starting for the door to head back out to the alley, when she hears a soft groan.

Ice floods her veins and she freezes, limbs tense in her effort to remain as still as possible. The noise sounds again, softly, but unmistakably from nearby, and Beckett twists around, scanning her eyes over the changing room carefully for any signs of someone else here.

The room is pretty dimly lit with old bulbs bordering the mirrors like in backstage dressing rooms for movie stars, probably some half-assed attempted to help the girls feels glamorous, and there are clothes scattered everywhere in colourful piles. Still, she navigates through it, listening intently, when she reaches one of the narrow closets, tucked away in the furthest corner of the room.

Holding her breath, Beckett slides next to the door, grasping the brass doorknob tightly as she twists it. Pulling it open, she has a fleeting thought that she wishes she had her gun on her, before she staggers backwards in shock, finally seeing who is inside the closet.

"Shit," she curses, crouching down to get a closer look. "Annaliese."

The girl is clearly unconscious, her breathing shallow from what little Beckett can see in the position she's bunched up in. She lifts a hand to brush the fringe of fair blonde hair out of the girl's face, chewing her lip in worry at the grey pallor to her cheeks, even under the layers of blush.

"Annaliese," she calls, shaking the girl's shoulder gently, careful not to jostle her too much. "Can you hear me, sweetie?"

There's no response, and Beckett curses, pulling out her phone and placing a quick call to 911, asking for an ambulance and alerting them to the situation. She hesitates after she hangs up, her gaze flicking between the unconscious girl beside her and the glaring numbers reading '2:30am' on the screen of her phone.

Growling underneath her breath, she picks his name on the contacts list, dialling through and pressing her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she has another futile attempt at waking Annaliese while the dial tone drones in her ear.

"Castle," the voice comes through gruffly, and she can just imagine his rumpled face rising up from where it's smashed against a pillow to answer. Just like this morning. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," she sighs, closing her eyes in worry, the weight of this entire situation finally falling on top of her. "I need you to get to the hospital as soon as possible."

"Beckett, what?" he gasps, sounding far more awake and _concerned_ now. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him swiftly, not being able to help running her fingers soothingly over the girl's head as she lies crumpled in the closet. Someone must have put her in here. "But I found one of the girls from the club unconscious. I think she might have been drugged."

"Shit."

"Pretty much."

"Do you think she's going to be okay?"

Beckett bites down on her lip, studying the pale face and lithe body of the nineteen year old, the way her temperature seems to be cooling every minute. She can hear the blare of sirens approaching from outside.

"I don't know, Castle," she sighs, pushing herself out of the way to allow the paramedics easier access when they get in here. "But I need you to call Ryan and Espo. We might just have another victim."

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks so much for reading everyone and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

* * *

Castle rushes through the stale white hallways, dodging past nurses and other members of staff as he slides against the shine on the floor to catch a sight of Beckett. Rationally he knows that she's okay, he heard her insist that she was on the phone before, but he can't help the agitated inkling of doubt creeping into his veins and fuelling his panic.

Following the blue signs overhead directing him to the ward for emergency arrivals, he stumbles to a halt, feet slipping against the lack of grip on the floor when he catches sight of the three detectives in conversation with a man in a white coat.

He swallows down the rising dread that had begun to climb his throat on the way over here now she's in front of him.

 _She's okay._

The doctor nods to the three of them, tucking his hands inside his coat pockets as he walks away, and Castle picks up his pace again to hurry over to the detectives.

"Beckett," he calls, too panicked to have the mind to refer to her as her undercover name before it's already slipped from his lips. Hopefully if she's here with the boys she won't be playing 'Houghton' right now anyway. She spins around to face him with wide eyes. She's still in her get up from the club, the dress she's wearing clinging tightly to the curve of her ass while floating in loose layers from the top and making him inappropriately aroused in possibly the least sexy place on earth. "Hey, I got here as fast as I could."

She strides over to him, arms folded over as she sends him a weary smile. She must be exhausted.

"Hey, Castle," she says, tucking her arms a little tighter around her as she shifts her gaze to the medical doctors passing them. "Sorry for waking you."

"No, no, I'm glad you called," he shakes his head adamantly, hands lifting automatically to cradle her elbows. He manages to stop himself, remembering that _they don't do that,_ and it leaves him to hover his arms in mid-air for a few awkward seconds. "I'm your partner, remember? Even when it's three am."

Her eyes flick up to his in surprise, the green and gold of her irises shimmering in the harsh overhead lights, and she tilts her lips upwards in a smile.

"Yeah," she nods shyly, and it's then that he realises the strength and meaning the word 'partner' must have for her. "Yeah, you are."

The boys crowd around them before he can form a response, both looking sombre, with a flare of determination etched in the tightness of their jaws. Espo hands Beckett an NYPD jacket which she accepts gratefully, pulling the light grey fleece over her arms and shoulders to tuck herself inside.

"You okay, Bro?" the detective asks in greeting, patting a hand against his shoulder.

He nods his head, reluctant to take his eyes off Beckett while he addresses the guys. "Yeah. I just want to know what's going on."

The hint gets all three of them slipping back into 'cop mode', emotions almost completely wiped away in order to neutrally and distantly explain the events of whatever has been found out at the club.

"A girl from the club, Annaliese," Beckett begins, taking a step forward, closer to him, as she breaks their little circle in order to tell the story. "I noticed her talking to Bruce when I arrived early for my shift, and he handed her something, I'm not really sure what. But, when I was getting ready to leave tonight, I found her shoved inside one of the store cupboards, sedated and possibly experiencing paralysis."

"Oh," he breathes out, gripped with sympathy for this poor girl, one who could have just as easily been replaced with Beckett. "That's… _shit."_

"Tell us about it," Ryan chimes in, sighing around his words as he glances at the floor for a moment.

"Do we know if she's alright?"

Beckett shuffles her feet, pushing her shoulders back in her new stance to presumably fuel her solid core, even when they all know it's only a way to hold off too much pain or panic.

"She's alive, and thankfully in recovery now," she begins, pointing further down the hallway. "That doctor over there, the one just heading into that room on the left, explained that it was in fact an overdoes of rohypnol.

"So he roofied her then, just like the others?"

Heaving out a weighted sigh laced with frustration, she brushes her hand through the mopped mess of hair that has fallen in delicate strands around her head, out of the up-do it must have been tied in earlier tonight. "It appears so," she starts, glancing back towards him. "We don't know what he was planning to do with her though."

"Surely this means we can connect him to the murders and charge him, right?" he asks the three of them, hope that this case will finally be over firing up from glowing embers inside of him. The sooner Beckett can stop working in that awful club, the better.

Beckett grimaces, turning away and pulling at the sleeves of her jacket, while Ryan and Espo shift on their feet. "What?"

"It depends on what Annaliese remembers," Ryan starts hesitantly. "We have the detective in charge of the investigation coming down here, and he's eager to just arrest the guy for a possession offence rather than the murders."

His jaw drops open in shock and he looks over at Beckett in bewilderment, but she only clenches her teeth in held back frustration. There's no way that she's okay with this.

"We can't just let that sick bastard get away with killing those women back in New York," he argues, shaking his head.

"Yeah, we know, Bro," Esposito cuts in, looking just as annoyed with the entire situation. "We were hoping that this could at least help us on the murder front, but Beckett only witnessed him handing her something from a distance. Unfortunately, that's not going to be of any help unless the girl remembers anything that can directly link him to attempted murder."

He closes his eyes, lifting one hand to rub at his steadily throbbing temple in annoyance. This is just getting ridiculous.

Connecting gazes with Beckett, she twitches her mouth in what he assumes is an attempt of a smile, but the circumstances aren't really calling for it. Besides, he has a feeling Beckett cares about this girl.

He'll have to ask her about it later.

The four of them are about to retreat back to the row of seats lined up by the wall to wait for more information, when the sound of heavy footfalls greets them. They turn in tandem, watching as a large uniformed man comes stomping through, his face set in a scowl as a couple of younger officers trail along behind him.

"Detectives," he greets with a gruff nod, inserting himself within their little circle. Castle's eyes shift sideways to Beckett, and she nods back at him, a silent affirmation that this is who he thinks it is.

"Chief Grover," she says politely, tilting her chin up to face the looming man more evenly. "I trust my detectives have filled you in on recent developments."

"That they have, Detective Beckett," he nods, tucking his hands inside his belt loop as he shifts his weight onto one side. "And I came down to see if the girl has made any progress in her recovery."

"She's still unconscious," Ryan explains, stepping forward a little. "But they've given her fluids and have her hooked up to monitors, so hopefully she'll be awake soon. They're just waiting for the drugs to wear off now. They don't think the dose was too high thankfully."

The man bobs his head in consideration, taking a moment to study each of them, giving them a quick once over before he decides to say any more. "I was hoping I could take her statement and ask for her aid in the rest of this investigation."

"Sir," Beckett says sharply, voice ringing off the empty walls of the hallway. "I actually think it would be best if I spoke to Annaliese first. I've gotten to know her and she trusts me, and seeing as she has no next of kin or living family to speak of, I think it would be more comfortable for her if she woke up to a familiar face."

Castle bites down on his smile at how commanding she sounds, how she leaves little room for argument in her demand to see this investigation through her way. Chief Grover narrows his eyes at her a little, but she doesn't back down, standing as tall as she can in her short dress and, apparently no shoes now that he takes the moment to look, hands placed firmly on her hips as she stares him into submission.

Eventually he relents, throwing out an excuse that he and Officer Brady will be down the hall getting coffee while they wait for more news, and he boys can't help but snigger once he's out of earshot.

"Nice one, Beckett," Ryan grins, before he and Espo take a seat back on the uncomfortable looking metal framed seats attached to the far wall.

Beckett stays with him, her arms crossed underneath her large sweater again, and she suddenly looks a little smaller, curling in on herself in what he can only guess is exhaustion.

"Do you want to go and get coffee?" he asks her gently, not wanting to placate her, but still eager to help make her feel better in the only way he can.

She smiles wryly at him, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. "You mean where Chief Grover just went off to? Because I think I'll have to pass on that, Castle."

His eyes widen in exaggerated horror, and he's pleased when he gets a soft chuckle out of her.

"No, no, no," he shakes his head vehemently. "There'll be tons of coffee shops around here, so we'll just have to go a little further to avoid him."

Pursing her lips, she tilts her head at him a smiles.

"Lead the way. You're buying."

* * *

She's found them a bench to sit on inside the inbuilt coffee shops within the hospital, and he returns from the counter armed with his own coffee, as well as her grande skimmed latte that he hasn't ordered in months.

Accepting it with glee, she sends him a gorgeous grin that lights up her entire face, and he loses his breath for a moment.

It feels like the universe has finally righted itself again.

Shaking himself off, he takes a seat next to her, wincing at the first scalding sip from his takeaway cup and deciding to leave it to cool for a while instead. Something he's always noticed Beckett does is take a long sip, holding the cup in both hands, as soon as he hands it to her. He knows it must be too hot, but she seems to enjoy that, and he can't help but smile at seeing her do it again.

How on earth did he think he could leave this extraordinary woman?

But something still itches at the back of his mind. Something about what happened when he left, and why she broke up with Demming so suddenly.

Plus, he's pretty damn concerned about her on this case right now.

"Hey, Beckett," he starts cautiously, leaning back to feel the hard surface of the bench poking against his back. She hums, pulling herself away from her coffee and tilting her head at him in question. "Do you think it's still a good idea for you to be on this case?"

Her face remains impassive, carefully blank, but he certainly doesn't miss the way her entire posture tenses next to him.

"What are you talking about?"

This case, with you working undercover," he clarifies, turning himself so that he's facing her more head on now. "We know Bruce is trying to kill some of the women working for him for one reason or another, and we also know that he's doping them in order to do it. How do you know he's not going to come after you?"

She stares at him for a long moment, her brows creasing slightly as she leans away from him.

"I can look after myself, Castle," she tells him slowly, her voice holding a slight hint of warning that he's too concerned to follow.

"I know that," he says, shifting in his seat as he becomes increasingly antsy about where this conversation is supposedly heading. "I'm just worried that you're going to get hurt, Kate."

He doesn't know whether it's the way he's chosen to phrase his concerns, or the fact that he risked the use of her first name to drill the confession into her, but he knows he's in trouble when her eyes flash dangerously, her hand gripping the takeout coffee cup so tightly that her knuckles start to turn white.

"Castle, I am a _cop_ ," she snaps, and he winces slightly at the harsh tone of her voice. "I know you seem to think that running around and solving murders is a game, but when you're actually living this life, and not just researching for a fictional novel, it's a hell of a lot more than that."

"Don't you think I know that?" he exclaims, motioning to himself as the force of her words strike him. "I watched someone set a bomb off in your apartment. I stood there, watching the flames eat up every hope and opportunity we could ever have while picturing you dead in there. Left burned and bloody all because of a stupid book I wrote about you."

Her mouth is agape, searching for something to say as her wide eyes search his, and he suddenly feels exhausted, drained. He's immediately aware that he shouldn't have said that.

"I don't blame you for that, Castle," she says tightly. "It's just something that's part of my job."

"But it shouldn't have to be," he tells her, his blood swimming rapidly through his entire body and setting fire to his veins. "You don't need to do this, Beckett."

She exhales heavily, huffing out a disbelieving breath as she turns away from him, and he tries to calm himself down and get the tightness in his chest under control with steady breathing.

"You don't understand, Castle. This is my life, my _job,_ and you don't get to decide how I do it."

Releasing a low growl under his breath, he takes hold of her forearm, trying to urge her to turn towards him again, and she does so, fixing him with a dark glare that makes him want to shrink back. But he doesn't.

"What _you_ don't understand is that you don't need to constantly put your life in danger to get the best result," he says, staring down into her eyes, just trying to make her understand the validity of his concern. "They probably don't even need you undercover anymore, so why don't you just take a moment to think about how you getting unnecessarily hurt is going to affect the people around you, because you clearly don't seem to care about looking after yourself."

He takes a deep breath when he's done, cursing himself for getting carried away, but at least it's out there. Only the dark look Beckett's fixing him with tells him that he's just made a very bad mistake.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" she says, her voice so low and leaking of dangerousness that he can't help the way he curves back in on himself slightly. "This is _my_ life, and my case, and you have absolutely _no_ right to tell me how I should live it."

She stands up suddenly, all smoky eyes, bare feet, and ruffled hair, looking like an avenging angel underneath the harsh lights bathing down over her, highlighting the shadows of her cheekbones.

Terrifyingly beautiful.

" _You_ shouldn't even be here, let alone trying to mess up my life when I'd finally gotten over you not being there anymore," she points an accusing finger at him. "I don't even know why I called you. Actually, I don't even know _why_ you're here at all, when you have your book and your ex-wife waiting for you after making it quite clear that you didn't want anything to do with me when you left. So if you don't like how I'm living my life, stop trying to weasel your way into it like the inconsiderate jackass you are."

With that, she storms away, leaving him sitting completely dumbstruck on the same bench they had just been sharing coffee together on.

He slumps back, resting the crook of his arm over his eyes as he heaves out a weighted sigh, wondering how things had just managed to spiral out of control so quickly.

When he sits up again, the first thing he realises is that Beckett left her coffee on the table in front of them before she left.

* * *

Stalking back through the corridors, Beckett winces at the cold of the floor on her feet, the bottoms probably caked in dirt and dust right now. She allows the anger to fuel her pace, letting it slowly drain out as she power walks back to the boys waiting outside Annaliese's room.

Maybe she shouldn't have snapped at him like that. No, she _definitely_ shouldn't have snapped at him like that when he's really just trying to look out for her.

She realises it now, as the adrenaline of rage seeps out of her veins and she's left feeling exhausted and embarrassed by her outburst, but she just couldn't help it. The fatigue of the past few days and just going undercover in general has started to get to her. It's beginning to toy with her mental and emotional state, and she's not happy about the idea of her barriers being torn down to leave her vulnerable to attack.

Castle's concerned about her, she knows that, but she can't handle it right now. Not after leaving her alone for the summer and not when he's already in a relationship with someone else. Not when he has _no right to be._

Tucking a stubborn curl of hair that refuses to stay in her loose bun back behind her ear, she turns the corner to spot Esposito and Ryan talking with a different doctor from earlier, and she doubles her pace back to high speed again to reach them.

"Is she awake?" she huffs out a breath, exertion finally starting to take its hold on her as she barges into the conversation, trying to build herself back up and feel like Detective Beckett again.

The man startles, turning to face her in confusion, and she doesn't miss the way his gaze travels down to skirt her legs for a brief moment.

"Um, yes, ma'am," he stumbles over his words, taking off his glasses and tucking them inside his front pocket. He seems pretty young, and Beckett can barely resist rolling he eyes at the predictable reaction to her state of attire. "Miss Annaliese has awoken from her drug induced state, the confusion has worn off slightly, and we can confirm that she was dosed with a moderate level of flunitrazepam which, in layman's terms would mean a date rape drug by the name of-"

"Rohypnol," she interrupts, already sick of this guy's patronising tone towards her. "Yes, I am aware."

The doctor looks taken a back, flicking his glance between the two professional looking detectives and her, standing there in a party dress, bare feet, and an oversized jacket.

"Uh, yes well," he coughs awkwardly, looking back down to study his clip board. "She appears to have recovered from the paralysis well, and is in relatively good health otherwise."

"Will I be able to talk to her?" she asks, propping a hand on her hip as she glances towards the room the girl is sleeping in down the hallway.

Doctor Patronizing raises an eyebrow at her, before lifting his pen and using it to point towards Ryan and Esposito beside him, both of whom are twisting their mouths in thinly veiled amusement at the entire exchange.

"Well, actually," he starts, twisting his head towards them. "These detectives need-"

 _Okay, enough of this._

"To fill in Chief Grover while I interview the witness?" she talks over him, and the guy's head whips back around in surprise. "Yes, I think that'll be a good idea. Ryan, Espo? Run over her status with the chief, and tell him that I refuse to allow a potential serial murderer to go free, so forget the idea of charging him for possession."

Her detectives grin at her, flicking their eyes to the clueless doctor in sync.

"Sure, Boss," Espo winks at her, before the two of them start down the hallway towards the café.

Rolling her shoulders back and pulling herself up to stand a little taller, she sends the doctor a smug grin and graces him with a 'thank you' before she turns away, leaving him staring after her, dumbstruck.

 _That'll teach him to make assumptions._

Heading towards the hospital room to talk to Annaliese, she's at least relieved to know that she can reveal her true intentions for working at the club to the girl now. Ryan and Espo assured her that they'd spoken to the Hampton's PD and Chief Grover had agreed to locate Annaliese a safe house, and hopefully find her a safer job.

"Beckett."

She spins on her heel, wincing at the squeaking rub of her bare feet against the floor, only to see Castle almost collide with a group of nurses, dodging them at the last second as he runs over to her. Watching with raised eyebrows, she stills, waiting for him to come to a heavy breathing halt in front of her, and she crosses her arms.

"Are you going to talk to Annaliese?" he asks, hand pressed firmly to him chest to ease his breathing, and she suddenly notices the rumpled t-shirt underneath his plaid over shirt, pulled deliciously over his chest. She'd been too distracted to take note of his attire when he'd first arrived. "Beckett?"

Shaking herself, she blinks, looking up at him again, annoyed to find herself caught off her guard by him again.

"I-what?" _Nice one, Beckett. That's really going to convince him that you weren't just ogling his chest._

"Can I come in with you?" he asks hesitantly, rubbing his neck. "I won't disrupt anything, I promise."

She's annoyed to find that she's too flustered to do anything but nod quickly, turning back around to continue towards the door, trying to ignore the ever present closeness of her shadow. He's never going to leave her alone, is he?

 _Except he already has._

Shutting her brain off from those negative thoughts spiralling in her mind, she pushes the door open slowly, cautiously taking a step inside the recovery room.

The pale blue of the curtain has already been pulled back, bunched into little folds at the end of the beam circling the first section in this ward, the other patients in here still hidden behind their covers. A glance around shows Annaliese propped up in her bed, looking frail and small, the fair blonde of her hair and pale skin making her almost blend into the crisp white of the hospital bed sheets.

She appears to be aware at least, if not looking tired and disorientated, but at least she's safe. It could have ended a whole lot worse if Bruce really was planning to kill her.

"Hey, Anna," she greets, keeping her voice soft as she turns into her eye line, and the girl startles slightly, pushing herself further up so that she's positioned more upright. "How are you feeling?"

Her eyes flick back and forth from Beckett to Castle, who is trailing cautiously behind her, and the girl seems to realise that she's missing something.

"Houghton?" she says, her voice small and rough with disuse. "What are you doing here?"

Beckett opens her mouth to answer, trying to sort her mind through how it will be best to approach this, and she finds herself looking towards Castle for guidance. He just watches her, his eyes wide and trusting, and he gives her a subtle nod that she hates to admit actually makes her feel a little better.

Sighing, she moves around to the right side of the hospital bed to take a seat, dragging it closer so that she can talk more directly to her, while Castle leans against the wall, quietly observing.

"Annaliese," she starts, reaching out to touch the sheets next to the girl's hand. "Do you remember anything that happened last night?"

Anna's brows crease, her lips pouting a little as she tries to think back to the events of the night before, and Beckett finds herself holding her breath in hopeful anticipation. If she does remember, then they might just be able to link Bruce to the M.O. of their killer.

"I'm sorry, it's all kind of blurry," she says regretfully, and Beckett's chest seizes with disappointment. Although she did expect this. Amnesia is a pretty heavy side effect for rohypnol. "Why am I in here? And…what are you doing here, Houghton? No one will tell me anything."

"Okay, um, first off, my name isn't actually Houghton," she explains, dropping her gaze away from Annaliese's piercing stare for a brief moment. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett, and I work for the homicide division at the twelfth precinct back in the city."

She's met with silence, and she looks up to see the girl looking even paler, if that's even possible, and undoubtedly shocked.

"You're a…what?" she gasps, eyes filling with confusion. "Homicide Detective? I don't- what the hell is going on here?"

"I was sent undercover to investigate the murders of three girls who worked for Bruce back in the city," she explains, placing her hand gently on top of Anna's in an attempt to keep her calm. "And last night we think he may have tried to drug you in order to hurt you as well."

"Oh my gosh," she gasps, her other hand, the one not gripping the sheets underneath her own lifting to cover her mouth. "Is that why I'm here? Is that why I can't remember anything?"

"I'm afraid so," Beckett nods gravely, and she can feel Castle shifting his positon on the wall behind her, inching closer towards her in the process. "But you're going to be fine, I promise you. We just need to know if there's anything you can tell us that can help put Bruce away for this."

Anna stares at her tearfully for a long moment, before directing her gaze to Castle, swallowing thickly.

"I'm sorry, I can't think of anything."

Beckett's shoulders sag slightly in disappointment, when she hears the slight squeak of a chair being dragged over next to her. She doesn't need to take her eyes of Annaliese in order to know that Castle has joined her, and she can feel the warmth radiating off his thigh to burn against the bare skin of her own.

"Annaliese," he starts, his voice soft and low, the soothing sound travelling right through his chest as she feels the warmth of it expanding against her. "What is it that Bruce asked you to do to your client? Did he want you to get something for him?"

Anna's eyes light up and she nods rapidly, and Beckett sighs with relief.

"Yes," she says forcefully, looking happy to be able to help. "Yes he did. He wanted me to get photographic proof of the affair he was having on his wife. He's a film producer, and Bruce said I had to do it because he's rich, and he'll be able to get more money from him that way."

Beckett's jaw tightens and she turns to Castle, nodding in affirmation.

"Blackmail," she says, the pieces slotting into place a little more inside the jigsaw of her mind. "He wanted you to get blackmail. Is that what you gave to him last night?"

"I think so," she nods, her downcast eyes back to the sheets pooling on her lap now. "And, I think he gave me something after, but I have no idea what it is. I'm sorry, but it's all blank after that."

Nodding, Beckett smooths her thumb over the girl's hand softly, standing up from the uncomfortable hard plastic of the chair.

"That's okay, you've done great," she reassures with a smile. "Now, we're going to leave you to rest, and we have officers waiting outside for you-"

"Oh my gosh," she gasps, and Beckett startles slightly at the outburst. "Am I going to get in trouble? I didn't mean to do anything wrong, I promise."

"No no no," she soothes, leaning down again, heart aching at the tears gathering in her eyes. She must be terrified. "It's okay, you're not in trouble, sweetheart. They're just out there for protection, and once you've been released they're going to find somewhere safe for you to stay."

Annaliese's shoulders droop in relief, and she sags back into the pillows, exhaustion seeming to washing over her. Her eyes are wide with gratitude, and Beckett can see the shine in them from holding back tears.

With once last smile, she rubs the girl's arm gently, before following Castle towards the door to let her get some well-deserved rest.

"Hough- uh, Kate?"

Beckett halts, her hand on the edge of the curtain as she goes to close it back up. She looks up at Anna, head tilting in question.

"Thank you," she says softly, gratitude leaking from each sound as she wipes a tear from her cheek.

Releasing a breath, Beckett bobs her head, before reaching into her purse to pull out a pen and a scrap piece of paper, quickly scrawling down her contact details and placing it nest to Annaliese on her side table.

"Anytime."

* * *

She finds Castle lingering in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a phone pressed to his ear. His head is angled down and the mussed strands of hair flop into his face after running his hands through it so many times tonight. He must be exhausted.

A surge of guilt clenches at her heart, puncturing her lungs with remorse for the way she's treated him tonight. Yes, he's been imposing on her life again, but if there's anything she's learnt about Richard Castle, it's that underneath the childish play-boy, is a protective father and friend who will do anything for the people he cares about.

And she's starting to believe that she's one of them.

Slowly approaching him, she gears herself up to apologise, when she catches the end of his conversation.

"…no, sweetie. I'm fine, I promise," his voice trails into her earshot, gentle and full of an adoration that can only mean he's talking to his daughter. "Yes, I'll speak to you tomorrow, at a more reasonable hour, I promise."

She chuckles quietly to herself, caught off by how sweet she finds it that Castle obviously couldn't resist calling his daughter at ridiculous o'clock in the morning just to say goodnight.

"I love you too, pumpkin. Sweet dreams."

He hangs up, still facing away from her as he checks his phone, his shoulders slumping with fatigue, and she suddenly has a startling urge to creep up behind him, wrap her arms around his waist and press her lips between his shoulder blades.

She immediately dismisses it.

"You okay?" she says instead, voice hesitant, and not at all conveying the easy confidence she'd hoped to.

The muscles of his back twitch in surprise, and he slowly turns to face her, looking completely drained from exhaustion.

"Uh, yeah," he nods, slumping against the wall again as she moves to stand next to him. "She reminded me of Alexis, and I couldn't help but check up on her."

She nods in understanding, the idea that Annaliese is young and vulnerable enough to make Castle think of his own daughter, and she's overcome with affection for the parental side of him that she's always found so endearing.

"I bet she wasn't too thrilled about that," she smirks, trying for some lightness in this situation. "It _is_ 4:30 in the morning, after all."

He huffs out a laugh.

"Yeah, even she's not that much of an early riser," he smiles fondly, looking straight ahead to watch the passing nurses and hospital workers. "But she still indulged me with a quick conversation, and she'll be coming back pretty soon."

He yawns, cutting off the end of his sentence, and she watches him, a strange sense of warmth filling her body and dancing all the way down to her fingers and her toes. It's nice, and it makes her heart beat a little faster, but she knows that she shouldn't be feeling these sorts of things.

"You should go home, Castle. Get some rest."

Sighing, he rolls his head against the wall, his head flopping sideways to look at her, his tired blue eyes dim, but still twinkling with interest as he observes her for a quiet moment.

"Yeah, you're right," he nods, and the hand closest to her twitches slightly, as if he's restraining it from moving towards her. "I'll get going."

Ignoring the irrational pang of disappointment, she forces a convincing smile, stands up straighter and tucks her arms around her sides. But she needs to say something first.

"I'm sorry, by the way," she says, her voice quiet, but strong enough that it conveys her meaning. "I shouldn't have said those things before. It was out of line."

He watches her for a long moment, his eyes raking over the make-up smudging her face, the way her body drowns in the oversized jacket she's wearing, and she feels the rush of blood to her cheeks.

"It's okay, I understand," he says finally, smiling so that his eyes crinkle with the effort, and her heart skips inside the dark crevasse of her chest. "I'll see you tomorrow, Beckett."

And with that, he walks away with his usual swagger and his hands in his pockets, looking undoubtedly lighter than before, despite the exhaustion.

She can't help but feel the same way herself.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading!_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

* * *

The rhythmic tick of the side table clock next to him drills monotonously in his brain, echoing against each idea that he comes up with in his attempt to arrange his thoughts and transcribe them into words. Fingers flying across the keyboard, he tries to quieten his brain, wipe it clean so that he can just feel the words running to his fingertips, not think, and just do.

Thankfully, the grogginess that came with awakening from his 'speed-nap-turned-full-REM-cycle' is starting to wear off, his vision clearing as he senses his body becoming more alive with every word he types.

And maybe the coffee is helping a little bit too.

He pauses for a moment, making sure to finish his sentence in a place he knows he can easily pick up from, before leaning back in his desk chair and stretching his arms high above his head as he yawns widely. The golden glow of the afternoon is flitting in through the gaps in his shutters, and the aura makes him feel warm and cosy, so much so that he actually takes a moment to contemplate making hot chocolate just to add to the atmosphere.

Out of habit, he checks his phone for notifications, fighting off the pang of disappointment when there aren't any new messages from Beckett, only a few business emails from Black Pawn that he can't be bothered to answer right now. He hasn't heard from Beckett since last night, or this morning really, when she graced him with an apology for her earlier outburst.

It had taken him by surprise, if he's being totally honestly with himself. He knows that she's been worked up about something, festering inner frustrations about something that happened during the summer, and he guesses that he's played a part in it. Although he wishes she could just explain what it is to him rather that verbally throwing off-handed comments in reference to it, he knows that this case must be tough on her, and he can't blame her for letting her anger get the better of her back there.

But she apologised, and he's taking that as a massive step forward.

His thumb dances over the message icon, her name highlighted as he weighs up whether to contact her or not. She isn't working at the club today, more than likely choosing to help Ryan and Esposito with the case instead, so it's not like she wouldn't be able to answer.

Unless she needs to cool off, of course. He doesn't want to be the reason for her flipping out again.

Sighing, he drops his head back against the cushioned spine of the chair, swinging it around in a full circle with boredom as he starts pushing out with his feet, sliding the chair away from his desk.

He's feeling antsy. He wants to go out and _do_ something, not just sit here all alone and write when there are more important things he could be doing to help out with the case.

Things that involve Beckett.

Standing up from his chair, he nudges the wheels so they roll the seat back to tuck under the table, and he cracks his knuckles, wincing at the loud _pop_. He's going to go and get hot chocolate. He doesn't care who judges him for drinking it in the middle of summer.

He leaves his office and starts for the stairs jovially, eager to quench his craving for chocolatey goodness and marshmallows, when he hears the snick of the front door opening.

"Richard?" the voice sings, and he halts, stumbling slightly over his feet.

He didn't think Gina was going to be back this early.

Peering around to look over the bannister, he watches his ex-wife shrug off her handbag, sliding out of her light summer throw to hang it up in the coat closet. He starts inching down the stairs, feeling suspiciously like he's approaching a dangerous animal, not wanting to aggravate her, especially with how rocky things have been lately.

Rationally he knows that this isn't going to be able to last much longer between them, especially now that Beckett's shown up in his life again, stirring up all these feelings he's tried so hard to shovel down, hide in the deepest parts of him until he forgets what it's like to care about someone so much.

Especially when they might not want you back.

Although, he's not one hundred percent sure about that anymore. Because judging by the way she was looking at him last night, after she was done shouting at him of course, he could have sworn that-

"Rick, there you are."

His head snaps up to see Gina at the foot of the stairs, arms folded over as she glances up at him.

"Why aren't you writing?"

He barely resists an eye roll. Not even back for five minutes and she's already grating on him about today's work on his novel.

"I wanted to get some hot chocolate," he defends, but his voice trails off towards the end, quiet with slight embarrassment at the twitching eyebrow he's greeted with. "What?"

"Rick, you cannot be wasting your time making childish drinks when you should be catching up on all the writing time you've missed recently," she sighs, shaking her head at him in what he can tell is disappointment. "There is a very strict schedule you're supposed to be keeping for this, and right now you're doing a pretty terrible job at it."

Narrowing his eyes, he jogs down the rest of the steps, coming to a halt in front of her as he tries to wave off the impending frustration at her accusations.

"Okay, one: hot chocolate is amazing and certainly does not have an age limit, and b: I've been working my butt off all week trying to catch up with my writing," he says, exasperated. "It's not like I'm behind without good reason. I've been aiding the police department with their investigation."

"Oh really?" Gina scoffs, crossing her arms over and shifting her weight. She may be petite, but she can certainly look intimidating when she wants to. "Since when does 'aiding the police department' involve sharing your clothes and playing video games with a female detective who is supposed to be, you know, _solving a crime?"_

He stumbles back a step so that his heel catches on the corner of the bottom stair, taken aback by the blunt hostility Gina is showing.

"Why are you so angry all of a sudden?" he asks her, completely bewildered and feeing slightly sick at the rising dread in his stomach, whispering to him that this is not going to end well.

Gina clamps her mouth shut, pursing her lips slightly as she lets her gaze study his face. He tries not to fidget under the scrutiny of her stare, but he can't help but feel guilty, as if he's done something he should hide from her.

 _Haven't you though?_ His brain nudges him, and memories of dancing pressed up against Beckett's back, hot and sweaty and tempting him to do so much more, or even falling asleep next to her in the same bed only a few nights ago.

Well fuck.

"Where were you last night, Rick?" she asks him, voice disturbingly calm in comparison with the fire in her eyes.

He blinks, shaking himself out of his twisted thoughts. Gina was well aware that he was doing these things. She knows it's fake.

"Last night?" he repeats, hedging for time as he shifts on his feet slightly.

"Yes, last night," she says tightly, and he can see her knuckles going white from the grip she has on her forearms. "When you got a phone call and then just left until early this morning? I bet you haven't even written anything today, have you?"

Ignoring that last part, he raises both hands in the universal signal for 'please don't shoot me', slowly walking towards her as he explains himself.

"One of the girls connected with the case was sent to hospital last night after being drugged by the man we think is our killer. Beckett called me to let me know so that I could go down and make sure everything was okay."

Letting out a disbelieving huff of breath, Gina smiles sardonically, shaking her head as she storms right past him and into the living room.

"Hey," he calls, following behind her. "Gina, wait."

Oh this is spiralling. This is spiralling so fast, and the worst part is, he isn't even surprised. It reminds him solemnly of when they were married, chasing after one another and engaging in biting screaming matches where both of them said things they probably didn't even mean in the haze of rage. He was so caught up in the summer spirit and the easy union they've had these past couple of months that it made him almost forget about this draining conflict that so often rose up between them. It makes him inexorably sad.

Maybe this kind of blow out fight is just an inevitable occurrence between them

His ex-wife spins on her heel in the middle of the living space, just next to the couch he'd fallen asleep on drunk only a few days ago. Placing her hands firmly on her hips, she stares him down.

"Why is everything being pushed to the side right now because of this damn case?" she fumes, her cheeks flushing scarlet. "There was absolutely _no need_ for you to waste a night in a hospital and then throw yourself off schedule again today."

"' _No need'?"_ he repeats, face twisting in disbelief, "A young girl was _drugged,_ Gina. She could have quite easily been the next murder victim."

"I'm not saying that it wasn't terrible, Rick," she waves a hand at him before placing it tiredly on her forehead. "What I am saying, is that you had no reason to be there yourself. You could have left it to the actual detectives and caught up with your writing."

"Will you just stop talking about the _writing,_ Gina?" he snaps, frustration getting the better of him as it starts to seep into his bloodstream without his consent. "Beckett needed me. She's my partner, so of course I was going to go."

Gina's shoulders slump heavily, as if the fight has suddenly drained out of her, and she shakes her head slightly, a tired smile forming at the rose of her lips.

"I think that's really the crux of things here, isn't it?" she sighs, and his face blanks in total confusion at this sudden change of emotion. He thinks he's going to get whiplash. "The fact that you'd do anything for that woman, because she's your 'partner'. And I'm just the ex-wife."

His heart sinks, a weight wrapped around with the chains of his regrets, the heavy burden of guilt he feels as it drops down to settle uncomfortably in his stomach.

"Please don't say that, Gina."

"No, it's okay," she bobs her head, sweeping the curls of blonde hair off one shoulder. "Let's be realistic here, we both knew this wasn't going to last long."

He hangs his head. The truth of the statement bashes at him, the words battering him so that his skin bruises with regret.

"This is just…this is how it always seems to end up with us. Disagreements and petty arguments. " he tells her honestly, eyes pleading with her to forgive him for whatever hurt he's caused this woman he once thought he loved so very much. "We always seem to get along better apart. I really do care about you, Gina,"

"I know you do, Rick," she says, voice soft as she takes a step closer to him. "But you care about her more. I knew that before we came out here."

He thinks about denying it for a moment, but swallows his words back down, clamping his mouth shut. Denial just isn't going to help in this situation. Gina deserves the truth. An honesty is the best thing he can give her tight now.

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh come on," she huffs out a slight laugh. It sounds slightly forced, but he's not going to be the one to begrudge her for trying to make things lighter. "It takes ten seconds of being in the same room as you two to realise how you both feel about one another."

His head snaps up in shock, mouth gaping at the truthful bluntness Gina has just graced him with.

 _She thinks Beckett feels the same way?_

"Let's just try and do this amicably this time, hmm?" she draws him out of his inner musings, the fake flippant attitude she's gracing him with more than likely just to make her more dignified, but he can't help but feel awful. "We've always worked better when I'm just your publisher, so let's just leave this as it is, okay?"

He's speechless, the words stuck in his throat as he tries to find some way to reconcile this, to make this seem less like he's developed strong feelings for Beckett while trying to get over her with another woman.

He's been a pretty shitty guy, hasn't he?

Gina goes to pack her stuff, leaving him dumbstruck in the living room, trying to piece together the parts of the spectacular blow up that's just occurred, leaving his thoughts in broken shambles around him.

Listening to her shuffling about upstairs, the opening and closing of drawers and the hinges of closet doors, he collapses down onto the couch. He drops his head in his hands as he sighs raggedly, the sound wheezing from his chest. He hates the slight twinge of relief he can feel in his gut, but he can't deny that it's there underneath all of the guilt and mortification that he's managed to screw this up again.

He sits there, unmoving as he wallows in his thoughts, shifting only to respond to the light peck Gina gives him on his cheek before she says her goodbyes, making him promise to continue writing and catch up to his given schedule.

And with one last smile, she picks up her bag and closes the door behind her.

Suddenly he doesn't feel like hot chocolate anymore.

He gives himself a few minutes to just sit there, let the silence surround him and the guilt eat away at his fragile insides, before he pushes himself up and trudges over to the kitchen, his footfalls heavy. Searching the cabinets, he pulls down a glass tumbler, and heads over to his liquor cabinet to find the scotch he so desperately needs right now.

He's about to pour his sorrows out into the glass, when his phone vibrates inside his pocket, startling him with the buzz against his thigh.

Confused, he tugs it out, glancing at the screen and feeling his heart pick up its pace when he sees the name flashing back at him.

 _Kate Beckett._

Not giving himself time to think about it, knowing that he'll likely not answer and proceed to wash away his feelings with good scotch rather than talk to the very woman who unknowingly caused all this, he presses 'accept call'.

"Castle," he greets, glad when his voice sounds relatively normal and not rough with grief like he'd expected.

"Hey," he hears her breathe out on the other side of the line. "Are you busy?"

Shifting his gaze to the still empty tumble and half full bottle of scotch sitting on the counter besides him, he twists his mouth, before giving his head a shake.

"No, I'm not busy," he says, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. "What's up? Do we need to do something for the cover again?"

"I, uh…no, we don't," she stutters, sounding strangely hesitant, and his brows furrow in curiosity. "I…I was wondering if you wanted to go and get some ice cream.

He blinks, his breath freezing inside his lungs and throat.

He was certainly not expecting _that._

"Ice cream?" he asks, completely thrown off by the request he never would have expected from the detective. "Like, not under cover? Just for fun?"

"Uh, yeah," she stumbles out awkwardly, and he feels the rush of affection warming him at the sound. "But you know what? It's stupid, you probably have plans with Gina but I just thought…never mind, forget I said anything and I'll speak to you tomorrow-"

"Hey, slow down," he cuts in, trying to give her a reply amongst her nervous rambling. Who'd have thought she was the type? "I'd love to go and get ice cream."

"I-wait. You would?"

She sounds so adorably surprised that he can't help the grin twitching to form at the corners of his mouth.

"Sure," he chuckles, the fact that simply talking to her is making him feel lighter already. "I'm not going to say no to an offer like that."

"Okay, great. That's great," he can hear the relief lacing her words as her voice floats to him. "I'll meet you at the usual place?"

"I'll leave right away."

This is probably going to be a bad idea. He's just broken up from a relationship, but not really a _real_ relationship, with his ex-wife.

He's going to get some ice cream.

* * *

She shuffles on her feet, anxiousness zipping through her veins like electricity, and she finds that she can barely remain still. Goosebumps rise on the skin exposed by the floaty halter neck she's wearing, but it's not cold out, it's actually still quite warm underneath the falling beams of the sunset raking over them. She's just nervous.

She can't believe that she actually called him.

It was a spur of the moment thing. She'd spent the entire day catching up on case work, going to and from the hospital and the safe house, talking to Annaliese while trying to create her own case that's strong enough to keep Chief Grover from going ahead with only the drug charges.

Those women deserve justice, and she refuses to give up until they have it.

It has definitely started to take its toll on her. Long nights working at the club or reading over case notes, trying to create a clear picture out of pieces from all different puzzles. Sleep hasn't been coming easy either, and she finds that she's plagued with vivid dreams or nightmares that keep her on edge, remaining on alert even through her fatigue.

So in a moment of weakness, she'd reached for her phone, selecting Castle's contact without even giving herself time to think it through.

She cringes when she thinks back on it, how her voice stuck in her throat, stuttering out a flimsy excuse she's refusing to admit even escaped her mouth when she expected him to shoot her down.

But he didn't. And now he's walking alongside her as they scale the stone walkway above the beach.

Looking away from the captivating sight of the sun slowly descending into the fire of the sky just above the ocean's surface, she turns to face her partner. He walks closely beside her, his hands tucked inside his jean pockets as he stares ahead, his brows furrowed in thought.

She has an inkling that there's something on his mind, but she won't push him to open up if he doesn't want to. Well, she won't push him _yet_ anyway.

"There's an ice cream stand just up here, right?" she asks, drawing him out of the apparent clutch of his thoughts, and he looks towards her in surprise.

"Uh, yeah," he says, his voice gruff, and he coughs and clears his throat a little. "Yeah, there's a little corner shop near the end of the walkway. They do the best stuff there."

"Oh, that must be quite the compliment coming from someone who loves ice cream as much as you."

"Definitely," he nods seriously, and she can't help but let out a soft laugh. "As a connoisseur in the art of ice cream, I can assure you that this place is great."

"Huh," she tilts her head with a smile. "I look forward to being impressed then."

"Impressed? Prepare to be blown away, Beckett."

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly at him, wrapping her arms around her waist and making the loose material bunch slightly. Turning back towards the ocean on her right side, she can't help but be overcome with awe at the sight of the streaks of burning colours melding against the sky in a pattern too ethereal and atmospheric to ever be captured in a painting.

It's gorgeous.

"You don't get skies like this in the city, huh?" Castle chimes in from beside her, the light crunch of gravel under his feet in time with her own steps as he keeps her pace. "As lovely as skylines and city lights are, of course."

"Hmm," she hums in agreement, her eyes still captive to the beauty of the blazing sky before her. "It's certainly a nice change."

They gravitate to a comfortable silence as they continue on down the walkway, nodding politely at passers bye as they take in the gorgeous lull of nature settling over them in the evening light. He seems to have cheered up a little now, thankfully no longer ducking his head into the darkness now that he feels like he's back with her again.

The little ice cream and gelato shop is perched on the corner of a piece of land, clothed by the protection of the surrounding trees as it looks out onto the beach. The outside seating and wooden benches underneath the clichéd red and white striped umbrellas make her smile, and she can't help but think this would be a lovely place for a family to take their kids for an evening treat to watch the sunset.

She follows Castle inside, pushing the door open gently with a little chime of the bell on top. The flavours are inside tubs within the glass case of the counter, and she's about to head over and pick one, her stomach rumbling in anticipation, when Castle holds a hand out to stop her.

"What are you doing?" she asks him, confused, raising an eyebrow up at him in question.

He stares at her intently, his irises darkening as he leans down towards her, and she fights not to avert her eyes from the pierce of his gaze.

"Do you trust me?" he says, tone completely serious, and she almost stumbles back a step.

"I- yes, Castle," she tells him on an exhale, her head ringing. She's known it for a long while, but actually saying the words out loud to him makes her feel light headed, as if she's been swept off her feet. "Of course I do."

Both of his hands come to rest on her arms in a gentle grip, and he leans down closer to her, almost nose to nose. Her breath catches inside the cage of her lungs.

"Beckett, do you trust me to pick your ice cream flavour?"

What.

She blinks, shaking her head to escape the haze she's just found herself in. Castle's grinning down at her, looking absolutely delighted, and she growls at him.

"You're such a jackass," she shoves him away and he laughs at her, spinning around toward the counter as she stands by the door, arms crossed with a pout she knows is childish but can't help feeling is warranted.

And she thought they were having a serious conversation.

Rolling her eyes, she watches him lean on the counter and gaze inside, his natural child-like exuberance thrumming through him as he bounces on his toes, waiting for the clerk to come back with their cones.

She's half tempted to just go over herself and pick. There are probably tons of outlandish flavours here; she kind of feels like just having something familiar, and Castle is likely to pick anything but simple. But she waits, and before long, her partner comes bounding over to her like an excited puppy bringing her back a ball with a wagging tail, holding two ice cream cones proudly out to her.

He nudges the rose pink scoops in the sugar cone over to her, and she smiles.

Strawberry. Just plain old strawberry with real fruit chunks. Refreshing and one of her favourite flavours.

He knows her so well.

"Thank you," she dips her head, accepting his offering gladly, and she follows him back out of the shop and into the golden warmth of the surrounding sunset. "Oh, Castle."

She's completely in awe of the sight, and she temporarily forgets her ice cream in favour of watching the sphere of the sun settle down on the surface of the ocean on the horizon, a spectrum of golds and oranges flaring out from its centre and spanning out across the sky.

"Do you want to go down to the tide and watch?" she hears him ask, and her head bobs automatically, her mouth too busy gaping to form words.

He guides her to the cobblestoned steps at the edge of the walkway, scattered with sand as they lead down to the beach. The ice cream in her hands is already starting to soften under the heat when she glances down, and she darts out her tongue, catching the melting teardrop as it travels down the cone.

"Mm, this is really good, Castle," she hums appreciatively, trailing behind him as she trudges across the heavy sand, her ballet flats already filled with it.

He twists around to see her, his own ice cream now dented with a bite, and grins.

"I told you to trust me."

She rolls her eyes, chuckling lightly. "I just expected you to get some ridiculous combination instead, that's all."

"Oh, there is no such thing as a ridiculous combination, Beckett," he calls back to her over the slight breeze as they get closer to the water's edge. "Some people just don't have daring enough taste buds."

"Really?" she scoffs, picking up her pace to a slight jog to catch up with him. "And I take it you're not one of these people."

Smirking, he nods his head and motions to his own ice cream, before taking a long drag from it with his tongue.

"Oh no," she says, hoping that the blush she can tell is blooming on her cheeks from the sight can be passed off as the sea air. "What did you get?"

"Potato chip fudge," he tells her proudly, puffing out his chest.

Her face twists in disgust, and she stares down at the innocent looking cream monstrosity, only now noticing that the sizable chunks hidden inside could very well be potato chips.

"That is just gross."

"You're missing out."

"I think I'll survive, Castle."

"But you won't have truly _lived."_

She barks out a startled laugh, nudging him lightly in the ribs with her elbow as they both come to a stop at the edge of the water. The waves roll languidly towards them, soft ripples from the passing sailboats and the odd kayaking duo out in the water, and she slips her shoes off.

Castle looks at her inquisitively as she wriggles her toes in the loose pebbles this close to the water and she tip toes closer until her feet come in contact with the wet sand. Her heels sink down into the surface, and she waits until a small wave reaches out to swallow up to her ankles.

She feels the rush of sand and pebbles as they're swept around in a whirlwind past her feet, the floor practically dissolving around her under the surface of the water. A speckle of water from a splash next to her hits her thigh, and she turns to see Castle following her, happily lapping away at his ice cream as he does so.

"I can't believe you're eating that thing," she says, spiralling her tongue around her own cone, relishing in the burst of sweet freshness exploding on her tongue.

"Hey, don't judge," he replies, grinning at her mischievously. "Not until you've tried it."

She raises an eyebrow at him incredulously.

"There is no way I'm putting that anywhere near my mouth."

"Oh come on, Beckett," he pushes, shoving the cone closer to her face and she wrinkles her nose, backing away. "If you hate it then at least you can insult it with some valid proof to back you up."

Relenting, she rolls her eyes, shifting her feet against the soft sand under the cool touch of the water so that she can lean forward and flick her tongue over the side. She doesn't realise until she's done it that she's just licked over the same place Castle has been tracing his own tongue.

Whatever. No big deal.

She pulls away, rolling her tongue about in her mouth against the strange combination of salty and sweet in one taste, and she finds that she doesn't hate it. Actually, it's pretty damn good.

Of course, she won't be telling him that and giving him gloating rights.

"It's not terrible," she shrugs, trying to play nonchalant, but his knowing grin tells her that he believes otherwise. Thankfully though, he doesn't say anything.

They start to wade in a little further so that the water is about up to their knees, and Beckett watches the sun slowly setting and drawing its curtain down on the day, savouring every bite of her ice cream as she does so. Crunching down the sweet crisp of the cone, she turns at a sudden buzz coming from Castle's pocket.

He reaches down, pulling his phone out with the hand not holding the last of his cone as he chomps it down, and the screen lights up. Watching as he practically deflates before her, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight as he face falls, she quickly swallows down the last of her cone, she wipes her hands off on the skirt of her dress, turning to him in concern.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Glancing up, he gives her a sorrowful look before he seems to catch himself, his expression transforming into that of his usual joyful breeziness, but she knows that it's just a cover up. Something is definitely up with him. "Castle?"

He tucks his phone back in his pocket, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair.

"It's Gina," he explains, his voice pitched low. Although she experiences a saddened pang in the pits of her stomach at the sound of his ex-wife's name, she doesn't understand why this would pull his mood down. "She was just letting me know that she arrived back in the city."

Oh. He's sad because she's gone home.

 _That shouldn't hurt as much as it does._

"I see," she swallows down the rise of grief fighting to climb up the column of her throat. "You'll be with her again soon though, and this must have been a lovely get away for the both of you."

"We broke up."

Her brain short circuits.

"You what?" she asks blankly, not being able to comprehend anything else.

"We decided to end things," he explains sombrely, kicking his foot under the water and sending flecks of water droplets further out into the ocean. "It wasn't really working anyway."

Her head drops down, and she closes her eyes, guilt swarming her for the negative thoughts she'd had towards their relationship, especially when it seems to have upset him this much.

"I'm so sorry, Castle," she tells him, voice sincere as she tentatively reaches a hand out to rub at his arm, the soft material of his shirt smooth against her fingertips. "If spending time with me on this case had anything to do with it, I am so-"

"No, it's okay," he interrupts her firmly, and she gazes up at him, the dips and angles of his face highlighted by the flare of the sun. "It's not your fault, I promise. It needed to happen, and in a way I'm actually glad it did."

He sounds so sure of himself, that she can't help but believe him. Still, she finds herself gravitating nearer, wading through the shallows so that she's standing a little closer now as they watch the last few minutes of the sunset.

It truly is breath taking. The perfect blend of the colours as they spectrum around the sun, turning the surrounding sky and the water below it into fire with the bright pinks and oranges. A sailboat, not unlike the one Castle had taken her out on, sails past lazily, silhouetting in perfect black against the sun and the wash of colours painting the sky around it.

"It's just so beautiful," she sighs, completely captivated by the sight before her, and she feels the heat of him, sparks brushing against her skin as he rumbles back softly in response.

"Yeah, it is."

But when she turns to smile at him in agreement, he's staring right at her with a gaze burning as bright as the setting sun.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for the continued support and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

 _Also, I want to say a HUGE thank you to Allie for making the amazing cover art for this fic. I absolutely love it and I really really appreciate you taking the time to make it for me!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

There's a strange sort of tension thrumming through the walls of the club, in between the beats of the music and settling along the bones of everyone who works here. The early morning shift is just about over for her now, but the day's patrons are only just starting to file in, blissfully unaware of the unease blanketing the girls who work here.

Beckett at least knows where Annaliese is: tucked up inside a safe house with a uniformed guard watching over her, but the other escorts don't know that.

They're just being told that she's not showing up for work, which they all seem to realise now means 'missing' only to turn up dead a few days later. It makes her curious, that all these Hampton's girls seem to be aware of the New York murders, eyeing each other uneasily as Bruce walks past them, hushed voices discussing Anna's unexplained absence.

Bruce also appears on edge. Beckett hasn't seen him much, but when she left the changing room this morning he'd stormed past her, his jaw tight and his features displaying more emotion than she's observed from the otherwise bland man in the past few weeks.

He knows something has gone wrong. His plan was screwed up when Beckett stuck around after her shift ended and found Annaliese in the closet.

He's pissed, and she now has no doubt that he's her guy.

She weaves in and out of the girls on the dance floor who are busy trying to entice the men and a woman Beckett spotted earlier as they watch from the tables. Heading down the dark corridor to the back changing area, she resists a shudder at the unpleasant memories this place evokes.

The sooner she gets this entire undercover operation over with, the better.

She's just shrugging her bag over her shoulder, adjusting the straps of her top, when she spins around to face the very man she was thinking about.

"Houghton," he greets, his eyes cold with none of that creepily charming politeness he'd expressed when she first met him. "I need a word with you."

"I'm actually just about to leave-"

"Now."

He stares at her harshly, and she kicks down her instinctive need to retort with a comeback. Shooting back when spoken down to is something Beckett does, not submissive little Houghton.

"Okay, sir," she forces herself to swallow, shrink inwards on herself to make it look like she's a smaller target. It's all about authentic body language.

Bruce shifts his eyes towards the door leading out to the corridor, seemingly checking whether it's empty of prying eyes before he rips into her about something, but she's the only one at the end of her shift right now. The sight has her stomach twinging in slight panic, put she dismisses it, trying to focus on what's going on right in front of her before she starts to get paranoid about things that haven't happened yet.

"Houghton," he begins, taking a step closer towards her, and she surpasses a shiver at the unwanted proximity. "There is something I have been requesting you to do for me, and you have yet to follow through with your orders."

That pang of dread starts to spread, spiralling in her gut as it creeps up her spine.

"I specifically asked for proof that your client is having an affair on their significant other, and yet I don't have any."

Oh. Crap.

She knew this might happen, kind of hoped even, mainly due to the fact it would mean more proof and the possibility of blackmail charges for the case, but that doesn't mean she wants Castle put in such an awful situation.

Besides, he's not in a relationship with Gina anymore.

She shoves down the awful glee she can't help but feel at the thought.

"I must have forgotten," she injects sincerity she doesn't feel into her apology.

Bruce's glare hardens, a crevasse appearing between his brows as they furrow.

"That's not good enough," he snaps, and she realises that she's never seen him quite this angry. "If you do not provide me with hard evidence that he is paying for your services, and by that I mean visual evidence, by tomorrow, then I will find another girl to do the job instead."

With that, he stalks away, leaving her standing dumbstruck in the middle of the changing room, suddenly at a loss at what to do.

* * *

"What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Beckett, just calm down for a second."

"Not unless you have another solution hiding up your sweater vest, Ryan."

The detective winces, pulling at the thick material covering his shirt as Espo releases a howl of laughter. The two of them are just not taking this seriously.

"Guys, come on," she tries to keep the whine out of her voice, slumping down in her seat as she watches them both fight over a basket of fries. "I need a bit of help, here."

Espo bats Ryan's hand away as he takes another handful, sandwiching them all inside his burger before he responds to her.

"I don't know what to tell you, Beckett," he shoves the bun in his mouth and takes a hefty bite, talking around his mouthful as she winces. "There's nothing you can do without arousing suspicion."

Sighing, she picks at her own burger, staring out to the street next to them as she tries to think. It's still so hot today, even underneath the canopy for their seats outside this little diner, and she quickly regrets wearing jeans when her legs start burning underneath the denim in protest.

She had hoped the boys would at least have some advice to offer her, a solution that didn't involve making a sex tape with her platonic work partner.

"So what," she drops her cheek to the palm of her hand, leaning on the table. "I just knock on his door, press 'record' on my phone, and then have my way with him?"

The twin smirks she receives says enough, and she growls at them, reaching forward to snatch away the basket of fries for herself. They open their mouths to protest, but the withering glare she shoots them as she drags a fry through ketchup silences them soon enough.

"Look," Ryan starts, wiping his hands on a napkin before he leans closer to her and lowers his voice. "We managed to convince Chief Grover to hold off on the drug charges until we can find significant evidence for his role in the murders. He's not happy about it, but he's agreed. So, you're going to have to stay put for a little while longer so you can find some evidence and we put this thing to bed."

She hears what he isn't saying: ' _in order to stay with the cover, you're going to have to suck it up, and do it',_ and she closes her eyes for a brief moment as she allows the consequences of this little ploy to roll around in her head.

This is going to end so badly.

* * *

Her palms are sweating when she knocks on his door a little more than an hour later. A faint buzzing in her head distracts her from the pounding beat of her pulse as it thrums through her entire body.

She feels sick, exhilarated, and completely _pissed_ at this entire situation, but she tries to numb her brain, switch off the loud drone of her thoughts yelling every possible way this could go horribly wrong as she waits the agonising few minutes for Castle to open the door to her.

 _This is wrong._

 _It's undercover and nothing else._

 _He only broke up with his girlfriend a few days ago._

 _Castle doesn't feel that way about you._

 _What if he pushes you away because he doesn't want you?_

The rattle of the door swinging open snaps her out of her daze, and she shakes her head to focus her vision, coming face to face with the writer, who is grinning at her in what she would dare to call delighted surprise, a dish towel draped over his shoulder in a picture of masculine domesticity.

She tells herself to shut up.

"Hey, Beckett," he greets, opening the door wider for her to come inside. "I didn't know you were coming today. I'd have put the coffee filter on."

She doesn't have the energy to respond to his amused chuckle, all of her thoughts focused on the one task she came here to do. One that seems to be making her more nervous than any takedown ever has.

Castle leads her inside, and she follows stiffly towards the kitchen, where the delicious smell tells her that he's busy making dinner. She finds it oddly sweet that he goes to all this effort, even when he's alone. Take out tends to be her go-to, but then again he's a father and it probably helps him feel a little more at home when he can busy himself with the preparation of a home cooked meal.

He's striding forward and the play of his back muscles underneath his black t-shirt makes her mouth go dry, a flare of heat igniting low in her abdomen as she watches them shift and move in time with his body. It almost makes her want to reach out and run her hands over them, feel the strength he hides away as she pushes herself up against him and-

 _Oh fuck._

That's what she's going to be doing.

Her heart rate picks up, pulsing heavily in her ears as a strange light-headedness washes over her, making her head spin in a tornado of thoughts all revolving around him. The way his hair would feel running between her fingers, the rumble of his chest as he groans against her mouth, the heat of him as he presses his lips to hers.

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god._

He's saying something to her, motioning to the scattering of pots and pans littered on the counter surface, but she can't hear him, his voice getting lost within the whirlwind her brain has become.

The shape of her phone nudges against her skin through the material of her jean pockets, reminding her of its presence as her hand flinches to grab it, only for her partner to turn back towards her with a beaming smile, likely sharing some joke that she can't bring herself to focus on right now, and she panics, her hand flying away like it's been burned.

All she can do is stare at him, try to feign interest in a conversation she can't even keep track of while she tries to collect her thoughts and steady herself, find the fierce confidence within her that seems to be letting her down terrifically today. She watches as his jovial gaze morphs into one of pinched concerned the longer she stands there, body melded into that of a statue as it ignores all instructions from her occupied brain to just _move._

"You okay?" she hears his voice wade through the sea drowning her thoughts, each roll of his tongue on a vowel swimming slowly through the viscous atmosphere, until he's standing before her, placing a hand gently on her numb shoulder. "Kate, are you alright?"

She blinks her eyes rapidly, glancing up to see his alarmed gaze roaming over her face, and her vision clears a little, feeling returning to her limbs as she feels the warmth of his palm seeping into her skin. Gasping out a breath, she lifts a shaky hand to her forehead, feeling the stone cold pressing back against her fingers. Shit, what _was_ that?

"Damn, Beckett," Castle releases a _whoosh_ of breath. "You had me worried there for a minute. Are you sure you're alright? Your face went completely white, like you'd gone into shock or something."

Dazed, shakes her head and inhales a deep breath to fill her lungs and get her blood flowing again. She gives him a shaky smile, lifting her hand up to cover his.

"Yeah, I think I'm good," she squeezes it softly and his thumb starts stroking her skin and sending vibrations through her nerve endings. "I don't know what that was all about."

"Well, just let me know if it happens again, okay?" he tells her, and she can't help but smile at the hint of father-protectiveness coming through in him. "I don't want you fainting or anything."

"Trust me, I'm fine Castle," she reassures, pulling away from him so his hand drops away from her and she finds herself missing the contact. _Well, it's not like lack of contact is going to be an issue for very long._ "Besides, there's something I have to do, and you need to help me."

He pulls the towel off his shoulder, flinging it on the counter behind him before he turns back to her, face set in determination as he nods at her.

 _Oh, Rick. You have no idea what's coming._

"Anything, Beckett," he tells her, and she feels herself smiling softly at the conviction in his voice. "I'm you partner, remember?"

She takes a moment to shut her eyes, take a deep breath before she dives into the deep end.

"We need to make out."

His face blanks, and he stares at her with wide eyes as his pupils darken to a navy blue that bore right into her, searching for an explanation. Not wanting to give him a chance to argue, she spins on her heel and slides her phone out of her pocket. She fiddles with it until the recording app comes up.

Positioning it on the table so that it's facing them both, she takes in a deep breath and turns back around. She sees him standing in the exact same position, mouth gaping soundlessly like a fish as he stares down at the spot where she was just standing.

"Castle?" she prompts, placing her hands on her hips, her nerves finally starting to melt away as she fights it off with her bravado. All fake of course, but he doesn't need to know that.

His head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and his gaze flies towards her, eyes speaking questions louder than his voice ever could.

"I-wait," he closes his eyes, dipping his face to the floor for a moment. "We need to _what?"_

She rolls her eyes in exasperation, twisting around to fiddle with the phone again as she speaks to him over her shoulder.

"We need to provide visual blackmail of this supposed 'affair' so I can keep up my cover," she explains briefly, inhaling one last shuddering breath as her finger presses 'record'. Stalking back towards him, she rolls her shoulders back in an effort to stand up taller, letting her mind shut down as she just goes with what feels right, rather than getting lost in over thinking everything.

She places both hands on his chest so she can feel the race of his heart beat underneath his ribs. The knowledge that he's just as affected as she is gives her a last nudge of confidence, and she grips the material in her fists. "So stop gaping, shut up, and _kiss_ me."

She pulls herself up and presses her lips to his.

He tenses up against her, too shocked to move for a moment. It's long enough for her to doubt herself, for all those negatives thoughts to start swirling around and pollute her mind, but then she feels his hands grip her waist and he dives in.

Her gasp of surprise is muffled against his mouth, swallowed by the heat of him as he pulls her closer, aligning his body with hers and drawing from the heat of her lips. Strong arms wrap around her and in the frenzy of limbs she loops her own around his neck, tugging even closer in an effort to feel every inch of him.

They stagger with the force, two bodies colliding, and she stumbles into him as he steps backwards, bringing her with him. The synapses in her brain have short circuited, lost all trail of thought so she can focus on nothing but the heat of him, the delicious warmth surrounding her with his strong arms and eager lips, smudging against hers as she gives back with all she can.

She elevates herself so that she's on her tiptoes, threading her hands through his hair as she presses herself nearer. The surge of sparks igniting within the pits of her stomach have been lying dormant ever since she met him, and now they ignite and set her entire body aflame with heated want.

It's perfect. It's just _so_ perfect that she can't imagine a good enough reason for waiting all this time to do this, to give into the inexorable connection between them and just let him take her with as much passion as he's doing now. His tongue tracing the seam of her lips, begging the puckered rose of her mouth to give him access, and she does so gladly.

The small moan she lets out in response to the wet heat of his mouth doesn't even register until she hears his chuckle, and she tugs hard at his hair, partly to shut him up and also because she _wants him closer._

A faint buzzing in the back of her brain reminds her that this isn't real, that this is just a rouse to further their cover and keep the investigation going. This isn't her and Castle, it's Houghton and Rick.

She quietens the clench in her gut by sinking her teeth lightly into his bottom lip, drinking from the sweet nectar of him as he groans, the sound rumbling through his chest and against the frantic gallop of her heart. If this is all she's going to get to have of him, she's damn well going to make it convincing.

His hands are travelling up the notches of her spine, spanning her back so that his touch burns through the thin layer of her tank top, leaving an imprint of his exploration with a tingling handprint that she'll never be able to forget the feel of.

It's all too much and yet still not enough all at once, and she lowers her hands to grip that tight black t-shirt in her fists, tempted to tear the damn material off of him and trail her mouth down the column of his neck, over his pectoral muscles and down, down, _down,_ until-

A sudden spinning sensation silences her thoughts as he twists them around, nudging her backwards until she feels the blunt edge of the kitchen counter against her back, and she sighs against him. Air moves through her lungs in heavy rasps and she takes a moment to catch her breath, sharing oxygen with him as their open mouths rest against one another, before the temptation becomes too much and she throws herself against him for more.

The wandering of his hands finally settle on her hips, roaming the inch of bare skin where her shirt has ridden up over her stomach, and she shudders at his touch, completely overwhelmed by the sensations she hasn't felt in so long, and never as much as this.

His long, thick fingers slide teasingly under the waistband of her jeans, and she's just about ready to say 'fuck it' to the camera and give Bruce the show he's really after, when Castle suddenly grips hold of her ass in both hands, hoisting her up in the air as she yelps in surprise.

She finds herself settled gently on the counter and her thighs part to let him walk between them, squeezing his sides as he advances on her again. His blue eyes are hungry and dark as he takes her face in both palms, bringing her mouth back down to explore his. Her eyes roll back, and she can sense herself being lowered slightly, the weight of Castle's chest nudging her downwards, and she's helpless, too limbless and aroused to do anything but give in.

She unropes one arm from his neck, making sure to continue her explorations with the other still stroking the shell of his ear more tenderly than she wants to think about, and she lowers it down flat on the granite counter behind her.

She's greeted with an immediate shooting pain that has her yelling, startling away from him as he leaps back from her in shock.

" _Shit,"_ she cries, gripping onto the collar of his shirt as she lifts her injured hand up, biting her lip against the onslaught of pain throbbing underneath the surface of her skin like a pulse. "Shit, shit, _shit."_

"Kate, what's wrong?" Castle gasps, gripping her forearm as he looks at her, panicked. "What happened?"

She twists her hand palm up and hears the suck of both their breaths when they see the big red welt marring one half of her left palm. Holy _fuck_ that hurts.

"The stove," she says shakily, turning around to see the hob still glowing dangerously red from when he was preparing dinner. You know, before she made out with him. "I must have burned it on there."

"Oh fuck," he curses, squeezing her in reassurance before he rushes around to the other side, turning the dial so that the stove switches off and cools down. "Jesus, Kate. I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head, staring down at the ugly bruise of red now blistering her hand. Holy crap this hurts like a bitch.

"It's okay," she croaks out, and she can't help but note the tingle on her lips as she moves them again. "Not your fault."

"I should have remembered, I should have turned it off. Dammit, I'm so-"

"Castle, it's fine," she tells him seriously, guessing that without the reassurance he's likely to panic and blame himself for this. She knows him well enough. "Now just get me some cold water to run this under, will you?"

"Oh, right," he stutters, rushing back around to help her off the counter gently, and she can't help the shiver she feels down her spine at his touch again. "Yeah, here. Let me take you to the bathroom."

 _Well that was one way to kill the mood._

* * *

He leads her to the nearest bathroom downstairs, a hand carefully touching her shoulders because he can't bear to cut contact with her. Not after what just happened.

The angry swell of blistering red glares up at him from her palm, and he winces at the sight, cursing himself for getting so caught up in what they were doing, so caught up in _her_ , that he'd been stupid enough to leave the stove on. He spots the red blink of the still recording phone out of the corner of his eye, the device capturing every second of the kiss they'd just shared and he rushes over to turn it off, leaving Beckett to continue walking over on her own for a second.

It hits him with a startling intensity once again that this was all for show as he exits the recording app, careful to save the footage as he does so. He won't lie though, 'accidentally' deleting it and having to do everything all over again certainly wouldn't be the biggest disaster in the world.

Minus the whole 'Beckett burning her hand on the stove' thing.

But that had felt _real._ That kiss hadn't seemed like something between two partners with zero feelings having to make out for their covers, but more like the both of them finally giving into the passionate burn that has sparked between them for so long now.

He's fantasied about kissing Kate Beckett. Actually, he's fantasied about doing _a lot more_ than kissing Kate Beckett, and he now knows for a fact that the real thing is a thousand times better than even his overactive imagination can come up with.

The feel of her against him, _around_ him. The heat of her mouth and the slide of her tongue against his as she released those little moans that threatened to undo him right then and there.

You can't fake that sort of thing.

 _Can you?_

Placing Beckett's phone back on the table, he hurries over to the bathroom, finding her hunched over by the sink with her palm face up underneath the cold faucet as the feathery waves of her hair float in front of her and hide her face.

He still can't get over how long it is now. Touching her shoulders in silky strands of chocolate brown, framing her face and so, _so_ different from the cute little bob she'd styled it in when he first met her. Thinking back, it makes him chuckle at the thought there was once a time he wanted nothing more than to tease and seduce the hot detective bringing him in for questioning. Of course, he _still_ wants to do that, but there's much more to it now.

He's getting to know the extraordinary woman underneath the steel exterior, knows that he can always trust her to have his back. He knows what it's like to believe he's lost her.

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare like a creeper, Castle? Or do you want to come and help me with this?"

The startled laugh that escapes his mouth has her turning towards him with a small smile, pain that she's trying to hide flaring behind the green of her eyes. It makes the guilt swarm in his stomach again, and he advances over to her, reaching up to the cabinet behind the mirror to search through and find the first aid kit inside.

She watches him diligently while she runs the soothing stream of water over the heel of her palm, the cool temperature hopefully easing the pain and quietening the hot flare of the burn. Digging through the kit, he pulls out the burn ointment he'd acquired after a disastrous night around the campfire making s'mores with Alexis one year, where thankfully his fingers were the only casualties, rather than his eyebrows, and some bandages to dress it.

His partner's eyes light up with indignation when she spots him unwrapping the white, gauzy material and he can sense her protests before she's even opened up her mouth.

"No, no, Castle," she shakes her head at him, and he almost smiles at how predictable her stubbornness can be. "Don't worry about that, it'll be fine."

"That burn has gone through layers of skin and is blistering, Beckett," he explains, raising a steady brow at her. "Which means it meets the criteria for a second degree burn. In other words, I am going to be taping that hand up whether you want me to or not."

She's speechless, gaping at him with wide eyes before she catches herself, brows furrowing as she releases an adorable huff of air and turns away, refusing at look at him. Smothering a grin, he clamps his mouth shut and folds the line of gauze up next to the sink, checking the time on his phone to make sure she's been cooling it with water for long enough.

"Over fifteen minutes, Beckett," he tells her, and she bites her lip. "The flaring should have gone down a little now."

Cautiously, she uses her right hand to twist off the faucet, taking a moment to just study her palm before she turns to him, movements slow, almost as if she's afraid to injure herself more. Taking hold of her forearm on her good side, he slowly leads her towards the closed lid of the toilet seat, motioning for her to sit.

Hesitating for a long moment, she eventually does so, sitting herself down awkwardly with tense muscles, her back ramrod straight. It makes his heart hurt that she appears to be so uncomfortable again, but he chooses to ignore it and instead focus on sorting out this burn of hers.

He kneels down in front of her, wincing at the crack in his knee joints, before popping open the lid of the Silvadene and applying a generous amount to the palm of his own hand. Eyes flicking up to his partner's in a silent request for permission, she nods her head and grits her teeth as he gently starts to apply the ointment.

" _Fuck,"_ she hisses, eyes squeezing shut as the burn treatment starts to soak into the damaged areas of her skin. The centre of his chest starts aching at the sight of her in pain, even when it's necessary, and he can't help but shift his hand over to rest on her knee, smoothing a thumb over the bone in an effort to offer them both some comfort.

"You okay?" he asks her a moment later, when her posture has loosened and the crease in her brows has softened back into smooth skin.

His entire body lists forward when he feels her good hand coming to rest on top of his, giving it a soft squeeze of reassurance as her fingers dance over his knuckles. Looking up, he sees her watching him closely, her face open as she offers him a tilt of her lips.

He hurries to wrap her hand up in the light gauze bandage, delicately holding her hand in his own as he winds the material around the burned area as gently as possible. Her head is bowed down towards him now; he leans up slightly as he adjusts the bandage, so that her forehead is resting against the crown of his, and he hears her sigh softly at the contact.

The two of them sit there in silence for a few minutes, just the sound of their breathing and the rhythmic hum of the AC above their heads as they continue to rest there, neither uttering a word at the pause from life they take to just rest with one another. But eventually, he feels her shift and start to grow restless as she lifts her forehead from his.

Releasing the hand he's cradling in his own, he gives her knee one last playful tap with his finger, the denim rough under his fingertip, before he stands up and stretches.

"I'll go and get you some painkillers," he tells her, sliding his phone from his pocket to check the time again. "And then dinner should be ready, so if you want to watch a movie and join me…"

He trails off, leaving the end of his sentence up to her to finish, not wanting to push her, despite his almost aching need for her company. But the hesitant smile she's gracing him with tells him that she might just feel the same way.

"Sounds great, Castle."

* * *

Beckett shuffles herself back so that she's snuggled into the mountain of blankets Castle's created for them on the couch, watching the credits roll lazily on the flat screen TV in front of her.

After a delicious meal courtesy of her partner, the most comfortable blanket den she's ever had the pleasure to sit in, and the dim glow of the lamplight beside her, she feels as though she could just melt here. Her stomach is full and she's delirious with fatigue, her body humming with blissful pleasantness, even in spite of the aching burn on her hand.

Castle is dozing beside her, snuffling out little noises of sleep where he's flopped against one of his plush pillows after passing out with sleep about half an hour ago. She finds herself transfixed by him, her eyes drawn to the softer lines on his face, the way the angles are shadowed by the lamplight beside them. His eyelids flicker with sleep every now and again and she buries herself further into her own nest of blankets, hiding her grin within the little bubble she's created.

Drawing her gaze away from him reluctantly, she reaches forward towards the coffee table for her phone, only now thinking to check whether the recording from earlier actually worked. Her phone buzzes to life, and she mutes the sound before selecting the video, taking a deep breath before pressing 'play'.

The second she watches herself practically pounce on him, attacking his lips with her own kiss, she draws one of the blankets over her head, needing to hide her furious blush, as if she's doing something wrong. It's almost surreal to watch, and she finds herself struggling not to avert her gaze bashfully at the sight of them both going at it, giving into the passion of over a year in the form of the most amazing kiss she's ever had.

She groans quietly, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes as she heaves out a breath in frustration.

This entire situation is starting to get out of hand. A month ago, she couldn't stand him, the very mention of his name like a shard of glass to her heart, while a month before _that,_ she'd thought she could see herself having a chance with him.

And now, she's feeling things that she's never even experienced before; swirling emotions that make her chest ache with both guilt and longing, and she just doesn't know how to handle it. This is _Richard Castle,_ for God's sake; the playboy author who unknowingly saved her life with his books once, who then stormed into her life and latched so tightly onto her nerves she actually struggled to go near any of his novels for the first few weeks.

Now she can hardly see him as the same guy.

This sweet, selfless man who she's seen glimpses of over the past year; when he dropped one hundred grand for her to catch her mother's killer, offered his home to her after trying to save her when her own blew up, and who she feels as though she's seen constantly lately, is someone who she thinks she may have just become smitten with along the way. But she just doesn't know how to handle that.

The video continues on to show her Castle's reaction when she'd burnt herself, and she notes that she'll have to cut this entire section out, but what throws her for a moment, is when she catches a glimpse at his face. Complete tenderness and concern reflects from his expression as he gently inspects her injury, the overwhelming sense of adoration she feels just looking at it floors her, and she quickly shoves the blanket off her head, turning to watch the man once more.

 _Does he…feel the same way?_

She knows he wants to sleep with her, that much has been clear ever since she met him, but the thought of someone like him, who could have any woman he wanted, choosing someone like her? That doesn't seem to make sense in her head.

Sighing, she closes the video, tossing her phone to the side as she flops back down on the couch again, her eyes drooping with the cloud of sleepiness dragging her down. Having enough sense to reach for the remote and switch off the TV, she leans over to turn out the lamp as well, before shuffling back into her cocoon of blanketed warmth, shifting on her side so that she's facing her partner.

They're almost nose to nose, only a few pillows separating them both, but she can still make out his features in the dark, and she finds herself following the lull of his steady breathing, until her eyelids flutter shut, and sleep takes her.

* * *

 _A/N: The response to the last chapter was absolutely amazing and I just want to thank each and every one of you who took the time to read and share your lovely comments with me. I appreciate them so much and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Tumblr: dappledshadows**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

* * *

A shooting ache collaring his neck wakes Castle up the next morning, warmth surrounding him from the inside out as he shifts within the matted mess of blankets. They feel too tight around him, suffocating in the humidity that comes hand in hand with the summer out here, and he tries to shrug free, pull his arm out from where it's trapped between two cushions.

Shaking it free, he lifts his neck with a wince, rubbing it to soothe the stiff knot bothering him and groaning at the feeling.

Why on earth had he decided to sleep like this?

A soft sigh from beside him, the gentle puff of air hitting the material covering his chest, answers that question for him. He twists to see Beckett still asleep next to him. She's snuggled down in her makeshift cocoon of throw blankets and pillows, cheek mashed against his shoulder as her face tilts up towards him.

The thing that really grabs his attention, that sets his nerves endings alight, is the fact she's practically cuddling up to him, her injured hand still bandaged up from the burn and resting on his chest just over his heartbeat. She can probably feel the tremors of his heart going into overdrive in the pit of his chest. She's practically lying half on top of him with her body draped over the cushion barrier to seek his warmth in the depths of sleep.

It makes his breath catch, and he wishes they could just stay here, curled up together on his couch and laze about all day, smoothing touches over one another as they share lazy kisses until the sun disappears over the horizon again.

But they don't do that.

They hide behind subtext and teasing banter; they don't mention feelings or the moments where it seems they're about to give in.

They faked a kiss for a camera in order to keep up their undercover affair.

It's not real, none of it, but that doesn't mean he won't take the opportunity to watch the sleeping siren beside him, and observe the morning sun shadowing the angular lines of her face, casting dark streaks from the flutter of her eyelashes.

It's strangely intimate to catch her in a moment of vulnerability like this, and he feels honoured. Content to just watch the rise and fall of her breathing as she releases tiny puffs of air onto his neck, but he knows he has to wake her up. She's likely supposed to be at work today, which means she'll need to hurry and report to the boys, before rushing to the club and waitressing for those perverted pigs that like to show up there.

He lifts the hand not held captive by her and slowly brushes the curtain of hair back from her face, a couple of strands sticking to the corners of her open lips from the shine of drool that he can't help but chuckle at.

"Beckett?" he coaxes softly, his hand drifting involuntarily downwards to stroke her cheeks. "Hey, Kate. You should probably wake up now."

The moan that erupts from her lips in a whine of protest has him stifling a chuckle, her open mouth at his neck ensuring he can hear and _feel_ every wonderful noise that escapes her.

"Time s'it?" a muffled voice sighs, her lips moving against his neck in a way that has his pulse quickening and blood rushing through his head, more than likely heading directly to the _south._ "Casssle?"

"Yeah. It's me, Kate," he smiles as affection drips from his words, the sound of her half awake and slurring quite possibly one of the most adorable things he's ever heard. "Are you going to wake up for me? As glad as I am that you've actually managed to sleep in past ten, I kind of need my arm back. It's gone numb."

He feels the brush of her nose against his skin, and he has to surpass a shudder as she shakes her head, burrowing deeper against him.

"I wanna stay here," her voice trails off and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, rubbing the bare skin of her arm as she wriggles within her nest of blankets. "Don' want to get up."

"Oh really?" he chuckles, his voice low in her ear as he settles down further against the couch, the crick in his neck easily forgotten now. "You want to stay and cuddle with me, huh?"

Her grip on his t-shirt tightens slightly as she rolls her head against his shoulder. "Yeah, you're comfy."

 _Oh wow._

Detective Kate Beckett, drunk on fatigue. He never thought he'd see the day.

He decides to let her wake up in her own time, wanting to save her the embarrassment of remembering these little sleepy admissions later on, and he tries to focus on the feel of her wrapped around him rather than the aching numbness of his dead arm beneath her.

She can never fall back to sleep once she's been woken up. It's something he'd realised after witnessing her awake obscenely early every morning while she was staying with him. She'll definitely wake up properly soon.

So he leans back, drops his head down against couch to try and stretch his neck a little, wincing at the tension as he does so, and just lets the lazy feel of morning surround him, tucking him in for the day ahead. Eventually, he notices the feeling of his partner's eyelashes fluttering against the line of his neck and he lifts himself back up, glancing down to see her awake, scrubbing a hand through the tangle of her hair as she releases a weighted sigh.

"Are you awake now?" he chuckles, and she spins towards him in shock before locking her gaze with his. "Or am I still dealing with 'apparently not a morning person', Beckett?"

She doesn't miss a beat with her response.

"Seeing as you refuse to let me hang up for at least _five minutes_ after an early morning body drop," she starts, her voice deadpanning as she wipes a hand over her eyes. "Just because you want to complain about how inconsiderate murderers are with their timing, I think you should reconsider your argument."

"Point taken." Oh yes, she's definitely awake now.

Moving his arm, he flexes his fingers and shakes it out in an effort to get the blood flowing again, dropping it along the back of the couch to stretch it a little. Beckett flops back against him with a yawn, letting out a high pitched little yowl that makes his heart pump harder, and she draws her feet up, nestling against his side again.

"How's your hand?" he asks her, voice low enough to make sure this beautiful little cloud of content doesn't drift away. "Is it still hurting?"

She hums, twisting her mouth into a frown as she lifts her hand off his stomach, observing the gauze wrapped palm that thankfully doesn't seem to have swollen since last night. He still feels incredibly guilty about that.

"It still aches," she confesses, and she slowly wiggles her fingers, cautious not to jar the burnt skin and possibly pop a blister. "Not too badly though, I promise."

Relief seeps through him at the words, her reassurance that it isn't so bad anymore helping to quell that gnawing sense of guilt that has stared back at him ever since their kiss abruptly ended when her hand touched the stove last night,

She turns to tilt her head up to him at the exact moment the memory floods his brain, overwhelming with the feel and taste of her, the heat of her body pressed so deliciously close against his that he's sure it'll haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future.

Or forever, if he's being honest with himself.

The sight of her rosy red lips, still slightly swollen from their kisses last night, parted and inviting when he sees her so close to him, has his breath stuttering to a stop within his lungs. Her eyes are wide, realising the proximity herself as her pupils dilate before him, the gorgeous ocean of green and brown staring back at him so mesmerising that he just wants to drown in the swirls of colour.

He feels his own mouth opening to try and speak, to break this constant spark of tension between them, but the words get stuck in his throat, and the heat of her body next to him, _around_ him, suddenly becomes much more acute. Her touch is burning through the layers of his clothing to imprint her mark on him, every nerve ending heating up with a furious fire that he has only ever felt while kissing her.

The blush painting itself up her cheeks is almost the last straw. The final thread in the rope holding him back threatens to snap as he thinks about lowering his mouth to feel the warmth of it on her skin.

He wants to kiss her again.

Oh _god_ he does.

For real this time.

No cameras, no fake names. Just the two of them wrapped up together in this blissful cocoon where they can spend the day rolling around in the blankets and worshipping each other. He finally realises that he's never going to get over this woman. It was stupid to even try, and now he wants nothing more than to claim her lips with his own and give into the aching tension that's existed between them, ever since she crashed his book launch party and dragged him into her life.

"Castle?" Beckett whispers, her face so close to his that he can feel the warm rush of her breath against his chin.

Her eyes flicker to his lips while her lungs heave out heavy breaths, and he lowers his head, chest tight with anticipation. He watches as her lashes flutter shut on a sigh, her head tilting so that he can finally, _finally,_ lean down and kiss-

 _Buzz, buzz, buzz._

He jerks away so forcefully that he almost falls off the couch, his hand reaching out to hang onto the back cushions at the last moment. Beckett's all the way over the opposite side too, pushed up against the arm rest as she stares at his buzzing phone with startled wide eyes.

 _Really, universe?_

Grumbling curses under his breath, he pulls himself up, de-tangling from the sheet wrapped around his leg when he almost trips on it in his haste to answer the call from whoever hates him enough to interrupt his moment with Beckett.

The number is unknown when he checks the caller ID, and for a second he debates just ignoring it out of spite, but if the universe really is screwing with him, then it'll end up being some life or death call for something he'll be blamed for if he ignores.

 _I swear if this is a telemarketer…_

He presses 'accept', scratching a hand down the rough stubble peppering his chin and turning away from Beckett. His partner looks as though she's about to bolt if he glances towards her again, so he gives her some space to compose herself.

Because they both know what almost happened.

"Hello?" he says, hoping that his voice is less tight and pissed off than he thinks it is.

There's a pregnant pause before a gruff voice greets him on the other end of the line.

"Richard Castle?"

"Yes, that's me," he clarifies, walking around the coffee table and over to the bay widows to look outside. "Who's calling?"

"It's Herman Wellesley," the man announces, and Castle feels his back straighten at the name. "I own the accounting business your publishers use for finance?"

"Uh, yeah," he blinks, unsure of what to say. He knows this guy, the money making machine who he's heard has a place out here in the Hamptons. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I've been speaking to your publisher, Gina Cowell," he explains, and Castle closes his eyes in frustration as he tries to stifle a groan. What on earth has she got him into this time? "And seeing as my wife and her friends are huge fans of your books, she suggested that you wouldn't mind coming to dinner with a group of us tonight?"

He hangs his head, pressing a palm over his eyes has his shoulders sag. This is the last thing he wants to be doing right now, but he knows that this is one of those situations he's going to have to take in order to vamp his public appearance again.

 _Dammit, Gina._

"Um yes, of course," he says, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. "I'll be there."

"Wonderful. I'll see you at the Plaza Café at nine o'clock this evening."

 _What on earth is he letting himself in for?_

* * *

"Houghton?" an unfortunately familiar voice calls to her as she collects her belongings, getting herself ready to _leave_ this place the moment her shift is over. "A word please."

Beckett grits her teeth, zipping her bag shut with unnecessary force before she turns to face Bruce, the asshole striding over to her with his chest puffed out and his oil black hair slicked back like usual as he rubs the several days' worth of scruff on his chin.

The fact that her instinctual reaction to seeing this man is a cold shudder slithering down her spine should probably say something about him.

"Have you done what I've asked of you?"

She twists her hands together, allowing the nerves to see through and further validate her cover, before glancing down at the floor, shifting her weight slightly.

"I did," she explains, flicking her gaze back up to him. "I have video evidence, and I'm just editing out the unnecessary footage so I can give it to you in a couple of days."

Bruce's mouth twitches, his eyebrows flickering downwards as he glances over her, as if looking for a sign of dishonesty. Straightening herself up, she watches him do so, maintaining eye contact in order to convey the truth of her statement.

After all, she does have the 'proof' and it does need to be edited, but she's going to drag it out as long as she can get away with so this sleaze bag doesn't have the opportunity to blackmail her partner and possibly tarnish both of their reputations, even if it is all fake.

 _But it wasn't really fake, was it?_

Bruce releases a small _tsk_ of disapproval, before nodding at her in what appears to be begrudging acceptance.

"Okay," he says, sounding somewhat uncertain, but she'll take it. "But I would also like to know why my pay has been dropping slightly."

 _What?_

Oh. Shit.

Vice had been able to sort out a deal to allow funding for the cover, and they were funnelling money through a private account to make it appear as though Castle is paying regularly for her…s _ervices._

However, with the lack of evidence and the way this case is dragging on, they must be running out of resources. _Damn it._

"Are you not pleasing your client well enough?" he snaps at her, and she gapes at him, taken aback by the hostility lacing his words. "Because you are being hired to satisfy him and let him do whatever he pleases in order to make that happen. Now, you will go over there tonight, and fuck him until you make up for my pay check. Do I make myself clear?"

She's speechless. Completely shocked at the blunt spitfire being aimed at her by this disgusting man.

 _Besides, I certainly_ can _satisfy him if last night was anything to go by._

"I'm not able to go over tonight," she grits out, clenching her teeth to hold herself back from clocking this man, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "He's busy."

Bruce's eyes flash, and he suddenly stalks towards her, gripping her by the neck before she has time to react, and shoving her into the wall. He holds her there, squeezing his hand in warning as her lungs cry for air, all trace of breath escaping her chest as he slams her against the solid surface. Gripping at his hands, she fights for release, but it turns out he's unfairly strong, forcing her to a standstill with ease.

"Listen to me," he says, his voice leaking with threats as he speaks lowly in her ear. "You are going to follow my orders, or I will slit your throat and leave in the gutter like the worthless whore you are."

With that, he pushes her so that she collapse in a heap on the floor, gasping for air as she sucks it in like a fish out of water, and he leaves without another glance.

She tries to calm her breathing, hand pressed firmly to her chest as she wheezes, and she scrabbles around on the floor for the phone she'd dropped, speed dialling the familiar number of her partner.

"Castle," she closes her eyes in relief at the warm, comforting sound of his voice and she drops her head back against the wall with a thump.

"Hey, it's…Houghton."

" _Oh,"_ he chuckles from the other side of the line. "How are you, _m'lady?"_

She ignores his attempts of humour, feeling way too worked up and anxious to deal with it now.

"Listen," she starts, keeping her voice low, and hopefully less raspy, as she eyes the door for anyone looking inside. "I need to come over tonight."

"I have that dinner thing," he explains regretfully, and she places her still bandaged hand to her forehead in despair. "But…you could always come with me?"

Sighing, she curses whatever forces have put her in this shitty situation, before reluctantly agreeing to be his date to the dinner he's being forced to attend.

"Okay, fine," she says, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. "I just need to talk to Ryan and Espo, and then I'll be right over."

She needs to tell the boys about this. It may not have been a confession, but it was certainly an admission of some sort.

* * *

He leads Beckett on his arm through the restaurant doors, her hand settled lightly on his bicep so he can just about feel the warmth radiating from her skin. They'd arrived late, partly because he wanted to be here for as little time as possible, but also because he'd spent several minutes trying to compose himself, locked inside his bathroom, when she'd left the guest room wearing her dress.

The navy blue fabric clings tight to her skin as it moulds around her curves, accentuating each feature so perfectly that he's half tempted to just cancel the plans and spend the night trailing his tongue over the silhouette of her body.

But Gina will kill him if she finds out he passed on the opportunity to schmooze Black Pawn's big wigs, and he certainly doesn't want to risk adding any more fuel to the fire his ex-wife is no doubt aiming at him.

So he managed to get a grip, giving his partner one last slow perusal before they called for the car service and headed out, Beckett's cheeks flushed with pink from his hungry gaze. It's things like that that make him wish these circumstances were different, that they were heading out as an actual couple to spend the night drinking wine and laughing as they play footsie under the table. They'd head back to his place afterwards, sated with wine and whatever chocolate desert they'd share, stealing kisses all the way until they reach the bedroom, collapsing to the sheets in a tangle of heated limbs.

However, that isn't the case for them. This is undercover. It isn't real.

 _But it could be._

"You know they're probably all seated already," Beckett murmurs from next to him, breath brushing his ear as she raises an amused eyebrow at him. "So you're going to have to explain why we're late."

Castle shrugs, completely undeterred. He doesn't care what they think, and using the extra time to surreptitiously ogle Beckett was so worth it.

"Never mind," he says, following the waiter as he weaves them through the tables. "At least it means we won't have to suffer through their company for as long."

Beckett nudges him, playfully scolding him for his lack of enthusiasm, but he can still make out the smile she's biting down on.

The sight of her profile beside him catches his attention again, the gorgeous angles of her face and the slender column of her neck, which is weirdly red when he the light catches it behind the wave of her hair.

"Hey, Kate," he pulls her to a stop, signalling for the waiter to give them a quick moment. Her first name must catch her off guard, because she halts, spinning to face him, probably to reprimand him for slipping her cover. "What happened to your neck?"

The minuscule widening of her eyes gives her away, and she looks down, stumbling for an explanation that she can't seem to find. "You can tell me, you know."

She sighs heavily, arranging her hair so that it's covering her neck a little more, and the closer he looks, the more the red smudge starts to look like finger marks. Adding two and two together, he is immediately overcome with rage and he sees nothing but red hot anger for a few terrifying moments.

"Did that bastard do this to you?" he asks with tightly veiled outrage. If he ever sees that son of a bitch again- "Holy _shit,_ Kate. What did he do?"

"Hey, Castle, it's alright," she lifts a hand to rub at his arm. "He just got mad because I'm trying to delay stuff for the case. The only reason I let him get away with it was so that I didn't blow my cover. It was under control, I promise."

" _Under control?"_ he says in disbelief. "Ka- _Houghton,_ this is starting to get too dangerous, you need to get out of there."

She closes her eyes, glancing towards the man still waiting impatiently to show them to their seats.

"Look," she sighs, gripping the material of his suit jacket. "Can we not do this here? One thing at a time, okay?"

He accepts begrudgingly, willing to let this drop for now, and he nods his head as they catch up with the waiter. Trying to block the fuelling inferno of rage from erupting inside him, he instead focuses on the feel of his partner, the warmth radiating off her where she's looped her arm around his.

He's eaten here at the Plaza a couple of times, wanting to impress certain women by flashing his money around, but it's still a little too much for his taste. The glow of candlelight creates a pleasant enough atmosphere, soft and romantic, but the overdressed tables and the _vibe_ this place gives off is a little too fancy.

At the long rectangular table down at the far end of the restaurant, just in front of the gorgeous bay windows looking out onto the trees and garden outside, he spots the numerous heads of slightly older couples, currently selecting wines to taste.

Nodding a quick thanks to the waiter, he turns to Beckett, seeing her eye the group with uncertainty. He understands why she's nervous. Maintaining her cover is still the top priority, so as beautiful as she looks in her short, sleeveless dress that leaves little to the imagination where it hugs her figure, the upper class wives wearing too much jewellery and proper evening dresses may not think the same.

He slides his hand down her arm, feeling the rise of goose-bumps as he goes, until he can cradle her hand, giving it a light squeeze in his. The dim lights from the candles highlight her face, shadowing her cheekbones as her eyes bore into his, and he leans in.

"You look beautiful," he tells her softly, and her hand contracts around his, gripping tightly. Her mouth drops open, seemingly fighting for words, before she ducks her head, letting the waves hide her face.

Gently leading her around the table, smoothing his thumb against the small of her back in response to her quite thanks, he pulls out her seat, motioning for her to sit before he acknowledges the six pairs of eyes watching them with judgement.

"Sorry we're late," he throws out nonchalantly, flashing his charming smile as he slides into the seat next to Beckett.

One of the men sitting beside him, one he doesn't recognise, huffs out an amused laugh and turns towards Herman and the other guy. "Probably too busy being entertained by your lady to keep track of time."

The smile slips off his face for a startled moment, and he feels Beckett stiffen beside him as the three men laugh, sending him congratulatory looks as their wives scold them. Oh, this is going to be awful.

"Uh, yes," he coughs out awkwardly, trying to keep up with his public persona and laugh this off. "I'm Rick, and this is my- uh this is Houghton."

Beckett gives him a warning glance out of the corner of her eye for his slip up, and he reaches a hand over to stroke her palm in apology, all while receiving greetings and introductions from the rest of the group.

Herman introduces him to his wife, Eleanor, a petite woman who looks about ten years younger than her husband, or maybe that's just because she can afford the best skin care. The other men are friends from other businesses that pay top dollar, with their two partners who looks less than pleased with their behaviour already.

"I'm quite an avid reader of your novels, Mr Castle," Eleanor smiles, leaning forward slightly to talk to him. "I was delighted when Herman suggested you'd be joining us here tonight."

"Well it's always lovely to meet fans," he charms her, flashing a smile that makes the obviously put together woman blush slightly. "I'm glad we could come."

"And what about you, Houghton?" the man who spoke beside him before, Chuck, chimes in, trying to lean around Castle to catch a glimpse of the unusually anxious Beckett. "Rick here is a novelist, but what is it that you do?"

He feels her stiffen beneath his palm, tension vibrating through her body as she tries to keep her face impassive. Looking towards her, they maintain eye contact for a few precious seconds, before she straightens up, leaning around him to address Chuck.

The problem is, she can't exactly deny the fact that she's 'working' as an escort, neither can they just announce that he's hired her services if they want to keep up the cover. It's a delicate dance, and they'll have to toe the line carefully, and hopefully they can pull it off.

"I'm just working as a waitress in a club here at the moment," she explains, pulling a menu towards her and perusing it, throwing an air of casualness into her statement that will hopefully prevent more questions. "Just trying to save up until I can get myself sorted out. Hopefully apply to law school."

He flicks his gaze over the table, seeing the slightly disapproving looks from the women, while their husbands make eyes contact with one another, communicating something he isn't entirely sure of, but it makes him antsy.

"Do you have family out here?" Eleanor inquires, shifting in her seat and appearing somewhat uncomfortable. Castle's strangely glad about that.

"Well, uh…my family have properties out here for the summer," Beckett begins, and he can sense her forcing nerves into her diction to appear more vulnerable to the leeches here. He's taken aback by how convincing she is. "But they cut me off when I decided I didn't want to join their real estate business. So I'm just trying to get a start myself right now."

Thankfully, the waiter returns with the wine selections and takes their orders before they need to go into any more detail about Houghton's 'background', and he nudges her with his foot gently underneath the table.

She spins around to him, eye questioning, and he leans a little closer to her, lowering his voice.

"Are you okay with all this?" he asks, concern more than likely evident on his face. "We don't have to stay long."

"I'm fine, Rick," she smiles at him, and his heart skips at the sound of his first name rolling off her tongue, before he remembers they're undercover right now. "Just schmooze and impress them so they stop asking me about my life story."

"Yeah, of course," he nods, watching as her eyes light up with the flare of candlelight beside her. "I can do that."

After ten minutes discussing some kind of business deal which is utterly boring for the two of them, Castle and Beckett end up entertaining themselves with games of Ro-Sham-Bo underneath the table, Castle keeping a steady ear on the conversation as he inputs his opinions whenever necessary. It's when he's about to murmur a suggestion of best five out of nine, for the third time (he has no idea how she keeps winning this), when Chuck's wife Melanie suddenly pulls herself out of her seat, the two other women following.

"Houghton, dear," Eleanor says, wrapping her throw more securely around her shoulders. "We're going to look at the salad selections, do you want to come with us?"

Beckett hesitates, looking entirely unwilling, and he can practically see the way her eyes are screaming 'no I really would not please leave me alone,' but she relents, giving him a raised eyebrow in uncertainty before following the women to the other end of the restaurant.

He watches her go before turning back to the other men, only to see all three of them practically drooling after her.

It makes him want to flip the table.

" _So,_ gentlemen," he starts, trying to gain their attention again, and not one of them looks the slightest bit embarrassed about being caught. "How's the summer been going for you?"

"Oh come on, Richard," Herman chuckles, and Castle suddenly has a strange feeling in his gut. "Tell us what we're all thinking."

"…What?"

"About your girl," he clarifies with a nod in Beckett's direction. "Your _extra company."_

Damn.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he huffs, trying to laugh it off, but they aren't buying it.

"We've all heard the rumours," the third man, the one who's so uninteresting that Castle's forgotten his name, smirks, and Castle immediately has an overwhelming urge to yell at these lecherous men. "So tell us, is she worth the pay?"

"She's got to have some special talents, right?" Chuck asks, his eyes hungry, and Castle wants to vomit. "I mean just _look_ at her. If I had a woman like that as a fuck-toy, I would have her bent over and sucking-"

He slams his fist on the table, startling the three men and several people at the surrounding tables with the loud clang of cutlery. Fuming, he opens his mouth to tear them up with the pent up anger from earlier as it rises back to the surface, cover be damned, when he suddenly feels a hand gliding through his hair. It's gentle in its explorations before it reaches the shell of his ear, soothing the skin with its thumb.

Too shocked to react, he's helpless to move against the arm now sliding around his shoulders to hug his chest, and the faint scent of cherries tells him exactly who it is.

"Are you okay, babe?" she asks, her voice low and calming. He finds himself leaning back into her, her head lowered so she's level with him.

He nods, throat tight and unable to form words, and she presses a soft kiss to his cheek. He can feel her lingering, taking the time to enjoy his skin against the silk of her lips. Dear God he would do anything to return the favour.

She removes her arm slowly, pulling away to take her seat again next to him, and he watches as she subtly glares at the men still watching them. She definitely heard them.

The others shift their gazes, looking at least a little admonished now that the subject of their disgusting jibes has re-joined them at the table. He glances back over Beckett's shoulder to see where the rest of the women are.

"You didn't get anything?" he asks, his voice sounding gruff with a strange blend of repressed anger and arousal.

"We're at a five star restaurant," she says, pursing her lips in a smirk. "I am _not_ just ordering a salad."

He grins, chuckling slightly under his breath as she continues to gaze up at him, her eyes bright.

"Richard," he hears Herman call to him, and he can't help the slight grimace as he turns back towards the men he is starting to dislike more and more by the minute. "There is a gala being held tomorrow, something for our company. I was wondering if you would do the honour of bringing your celebrity status along with you and attend?"

Castle stares at him, brain swirling with excuses to avoid spending any more time than absolutely necessary with these people, but Herman continues talking over him before he can respond.

"I will be happy to provide a…donation, of sorts to Black Pawn if you and Houghton show up, maybe do a little bit of press work to boost our publicity."

"I, uh…" he glances over towards his partner, and she raises her eyebrows at him in warning so he can hear exactly what she isn't saying. _Gina will kill you if you don't._ "I guess I can come for a little while."

"Splendid," he clasps his hands, and then leers over towards Beckett again. "It will be nice to have some… _attractive_ company around as well."

 _Oh this is not going to end well._

* * *

"Jeez, Beckett," he sighs, tilting his face up towards the clear night sky in exasperation. "I am so sorry."

"Castle, don't be ridiculous," she mutters, shaking her head at him, her arms wrapped around her waist as they wait outside the restaurant for the car service. "I need to spend tomorrow night with you again anyway, so I'd rather you get to do something beneficial for your publishers while you're at it."

"I'm not just apologising for that though," he says, turning back to face her. "What they were saying in there. It was disgusting and I wish you didn't have to hear that kind of thing."

She shrugs, scuffing her heel against the grave at their feet. "It's alright," she smiles sardonically. "I've gotten pretty used to it lately."

The idea of all the men at the club flirting with her and mocking her with degrading comments makes him sick, and he's so unbelievably glad that this is all just for show, that she doesn't have to go home with these guys in order to survive.

"That doesn't make it right," he tells her firmly, his protective hackles rising. "Even if you were actually working there, it doesn't give people the right to talk about you like a piece of meat."

Pursing her lips, she takes a step closer towards him, swaying so that her shoulder nudges against his.

"Try being female, Castle," she smirks up at him, and he can't help but notice the play of colours reflecting back in her eyes from the lanterns hanging outside the restaurant. "You learn to deal with it."

"Yeah? Then what about this?" he lifts a hand to gently brush away the waving tendrils on her shoulder, revealing the faint necklace of the bruise marring her neck. "Because I swear if I ever see this guy again I won't hesitate to break a couple of ribs."

"Hey, it's okay. Really," she tells him gently, and he wants to argue, wants to tell her that nothing about this man hurting her is okay, but she carries on. "Espo and Ryan know, and he almost gave me a confession in the process, so it's actually a good thing overall. This sort of stuff just comes with the police officer territory unfortunately."

He grumbles something under his breath, attempting to bury the overwhelming force of emotions that come with the realisation that she's still in so much danger, and the two of them head down the steps to wait by the road. He'll let it drop for now.

It's spitting rain pretty softly out here, cold pinpricks on his skin, and she drags him to wait underneath the canopy to avoid getting soaked.

"You know, we really don't have to go if you don't want to," he says, standing close to her as they listen to the pattering of raindrops around them. "Or I could just go alone."

It's her turn to sigh and she twists to face him, shocking him when she lifts her left hand, still wrapped up carefully from the burn yesterday, and rests it gently on his cheek.

"I'm going with you," she smiles softly at him, and he sighs against the soothing feeling of her palm stroking the slight stubble on his cheek. The bandage is rough compared to the satin feel of her skin, and he can't resist reaching up to cover it with his own hand. "We're partners, remember?"

He delicately moves her hand away, inspecting the wrapped up area to check for more swelling, before taking a leap and pressing his lips to the undamaged skin on her palm. The kiss lingers, and he hears her startled intake of breath as he strokes her knuckles with his thumb.

She's so close right now, so deliciously close and gorgeous and he feels her shifting towards him, her eyes wide in the blanket of night tucked around them. The warmth of her radiates, contrasting pleasantly with the cool air tingling his skin.

It would be so easy to just kiss her right now.

The moment the thought runs through his head, a car horn blares impatiently from the road, and they both flinch apart. Laughing nervously, they smile at one another as they see their car waiting for them.

He clasps her palm carefully in his own, refusing to let go, and he pulls her with him out into the rain, the speckling of raindrops clinging to them as they reach the door. Clambering in behind her, he runs a hand through his hair, ridding it of rainwater, and he turns to her, chuckling.

The graceful smile he's greeted with steals his breath away, her eyes almost sparkling up at him as she watches him. She's going back to the safe house now, but he wishes she weren't.

Something is growing between them, and he doesn't know whether to be excited or terrified.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you all so much for taking the time to read and share your lovely comments!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

* * *

"Guys, I told you that I'm fine."

"That bruise on your neck says otherwise, girl."

"Yeah, Beckett. It's starting to get too risky sending you in there."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, leaning against the windowsill as she sighs. Telling Ryan and Esposito about her little rough up with Bruce yesterday was always going to end with them refusing to allow her to remain undercover, but with the confession he gave her, it was absolutely necessary to do so. She's still pissed off about it.

"How the hell are we supposed to convict this asshole of murder if you take me out of there?" she throws out, exasperated and just genuinely _tired_ of all this, both physically and mentally drained. But she can't let those women down. She refuses to. "Those murdered women still haven't gotten justice. We owe it to them."

"We know, Beckett," Ryan starts, moving towards her slowly with his palms raised. "But the Hamptons PD said that they should be able to charge him with assault if you testify, and that coupled with the drug and prostitution charges means that he'll be going away for a pretty long time as it is. It's certainly better than nothing."

Sighing, she turns to look out the window, watching the osprey circling the water before shooting back up into the sky again. This isn't how she wanted this case to end. Not at all.

She feels like she's let these women down.

"Alright," she murmurs, and she notices Espo nodding at her in understanding. "Fine. I'm not happy about it, but as long as he's being charged with something, I guess I can cope."

The boys remain quiet for a few moments, glancing between one another in silent communication, reminding her suspiciously of the ways she and Castle communicate. They really are partners aren't they?

"We'll head down to the station and tell Chief Grover to go ahead and get the arrest warrant ready," Esposito tells her, sliding his phone out of his pocket as he checks the alerts. "That way you can get yourself out of that shitty place for good."

"Do we have safe places for the girls? There are still about five down there," she asks, her protective instincts rising for the women she's gotten to know a little over these past few weeks. They all just need a bit of help setting themselves up, then hopefully they'll be able to get along just fine without relying on the sex industry.

"Yeah we do," Ryan reassures her with a smile, folding his arms as he shifts against the arm of the small couch they've been sharing. "Some of them can go with Annaliese, while the others can use this place once we've moved out."

"Counting down the days."

" _Anyway,_ " Ryan says pointedly, ignoring Espo's grumbling, and she bites down on her smile. "We have a women's protection agency and social services coordinating with us to help them out, that way they can find some stable jobs and get back on their feet."

She breathes out a rush of air in relief, grateful that there will be some good coming out of all this gruelling undercover work.

"Alright, great," she nods, hands finding their way to her hips as she's flooded with authoritative energy. She's missed being able to utilise it. "I need you guys to text me as soon as the charges go through so that I can go down there and quit. Bruce is expecting me to be with Castle tonight so we're going to attend that gala, because he's getting up in arms about how little he's being paid right now."

The guys look guilty, sharing a glance before they respond.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Beckett," Espo says, rubbing a hand behind his neck. "The department is running pretty low on the expenses, and it's unlikely that the city is going to go for any more. You know how stingy they are with lending money."

"I know," she twists her mouth in frustration. At least this will all be over soon. "But it should be fine if I can leave tomorrow. Just don't let Castle know, or he'll offer to pay and I refuse to allow that to happen."

Esposito opens his mouth to respond, when a clattering of vibrations against the coffee table startles them, the noise rebounding as it hits the wood. She rushes over, checking the caller ID briefly before she answers, trying to fight the growing smile itching to form on her face despite the boys' company.

"Beckett," she answers, pressing the phone to her ear as she holds a finger up at Espo and Ryan, asking them to give her a minute as she moves out into the hallway to talk to her partner. "What's up, Castle?"

"Good morning, Detective," he chimes happily, and her cheeks ache with the force of trying to smother her smile at the sound. "It is I, your trusty sidekick calling."

"You know it's two in the afternoon, right?"

"I-oh. It is?" There's a pause and some shuffling on the other side. "Huh. Must have lost track of time."

"Have you been writing?" she tries to hold back the hope she can sense bubbling up in her, the enthusiasm for her favourite author writing another book about her, even one as distastefully named as 'Naked Heat'. It's getting harder and harder to stem.

"Indeed I have," he chuckles airily, and she can just imagine him leaning back in his office chair, stretching out as he spins it around in a full circle. "Managed to get quite a lot done too."

"That's great," she smiles, leaning back against the stair banister in the hallway, tilting her head back against the wooden surface. "I'm glad you still have time with all this crazy stuff going on lately."

"That 'crazy stuff' is practically fodder for my writer's brain, Beckett."

"Hmm, I glad," she hums, closing her eyes for a moment. "But speaking of 'crazy stuff, what's going on with the gala tonight?"

The heavy sigh whooshing into her ear gives her all the answer she needs. _Damn, he hasn't been able to get out of it then._

"Yeah, that's why I called," he says, voice sounding a lot less enthusiastic now. "I told Gina and she's obviously forcing me to go, but if you've changed your mind, I completely understand-"

"No, Castle," she tells him firmly, leaving him no room for questioning. "If you need to go, then I need to go. We're doing this thing together. Besides, the more public our appearances, the less likely Bruce will be able to hold you for that blackmail."

"Have you given it to him yet?"

"I actually might be able to get away with avoiding it all together," she explains, hoping beyond hope that Castle won't actually have to deal with a blackmail threat before the scumbag responsible is arrested. She won't be able to hold out much longer. "I'm just going over the finer case details with the boys and giving my assault statement, then hopefully we can haul him away.

"Good, the guy has it coming," Castle says under his breath, voice tight, and she's reminded of the pure rage he'd shown once he realised Bruce had tried to hurt her yesterday. "Are you going to be busy until tonight then?"

"Yeah, most likely. Why?"

"Because that means I get to choose a dress for you."

Her body tenses, breaking out into nervous energy at the words.

"Wait, what?"

"It's a black tie event, Beckett," he explains, sounding so smug and satisfied she just wants to reach through the phone and twist his ear. "So you're going to have to find a gown. And, seeing as you're occupied with boring case work today, that means I'll have to do it for you."

 _Oh jeez._

"Castle, no," she protests, shaking her head even though he can't see her. "I'll find something myself, I'll-"

"Oh come on," he chuckles, and she glares at the wall in front of her. "I've chosen your dress before, remember?"

 _Remember?_ How could she _forget_ about the beautiful red silk that clung to her skin and made her feel as close to a princess as she's likely ever going to get?

' _Bibbity, bobbity, boo.'_

"I chose perfectly last time, and you looked stunning," she hides her face, swallowing hard and throwing her waves of hair forward in an effort to cover her blushing cheeks, not caring that he can't even see her. "Just trust me, okay?"

She sighs, biting her lip with indecision.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice small. "I can't see any other option so, fine."

"Great."

"But one thing Castle," she warns.

"And that is?"

"If you make me look ridiculous, just remember that no one will ever be able to find your body."

* * *

She shuts the bathroom door behind her with a quiet _snick,_ laying out the dress bag neatly on top of the closed toilet seat. Out of habit, she moves to run a hand through her hair, catching herself at the last moment when she remembers she'd curled it, made the most of her new length with chocolate ringlets that frame her face.

Castle had given her a double take when she'd walked in, eyes wide as she shifted awkwardly just inside the door way. He'd shaken himself out of it, handing her the dress he _bought_ for her, and directed her towards the bathroom downstairs.

She couldn't help but take a few extra moments to let her eyes linger on him though, dressed in an expensive tux that fits his body well, and makes her imagination start running wild with images of what she now knows is hidden underneath. It took her a minute to snap herself out of her lust-fogged mind and retreat to the bathroom, her partner watching her every step of the way.

It's the same room he'd bandaged her hand up in just the other day, and thankfully she's been able to stop wearing the wrap now her burn has eased and healed up slightly. Nothing like gauze to make a girl feel like she's ready to dress up for a night out.

Catching her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she takes a deep breath, tucking one stubborn curl behind her ear. She crosses her fingers, and bends down to slowly unzip the bag.

"Have you opened it?" a muffled voice calls through the door. Of course he was waiting outside to gauge her reaction. "It's awesome right?"

"It's pink."

"It is not pink," he clarifies. "It's c _hampagne."_

"Okay then, it's c _hampagne pink._ Which is therefore, still pink. _"_

"Tomato, tomahto."

" _Castle."_

She can hear his muted chuckling through the door, and she glares towards it, hoping the intensity will be enough to burn through and shock him, but no such luck.

"Just try it on," he says, sounding completely undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "It'll look great, I promise."

"I said I didn't want anything over the top, Castle."

"Have you even looked at it yet?" he asks, and she thinks he's pressed up against the wood now, body close with his ear to the surface. "I bet you haven't even taken it out the bag, have you?"

She blinks and looks down at the barely unzipped dress bag, the lilac blush colour of the material only just poking out. _Damn it._

"Uh, yeah," she stutters, pulling the zipper down as slowly as possible, trying not to make a noise. "I have actually."

The zipper slides a little too far, and she cringes at the _whooshing_ sound, no doubt cluing her partner in to her blatant lie.

"Uh huh."

"Shut up, Castle."

Gritting her teeth, she open the bag all the way, shaking it off as she lifts up the hangar, and gently removes the material from the protective cover. The skirt floats down like water, soft material billowing out like waves as it falls to her knees. Lace covers the bodice and the half sleeves, leaving the satin of the skirt to flow down in a delicate curtain around her.

It's vintage, and so simple.

It's gorgeous.

She doesn't say anything to the man she knows is eagerly awaiting her reaction from behind the door, and instead steps out of her loose t-shirt and leggings, and slips the dress over her head, turning to look in the mirror for the result.

It fits her perfectly, the sinfully soft material clinging to her curves in all the right places, while still giving her plenty of room to manoeuvre so she doesn't feel suffocated. Tilting her head, she scans her gaze over herself, smiling slightly at the result, before glancing over towards the closed door.

Thanking herself for having the forethought to bring a pair of heels versatile to go well enough with anything, she slips them on her feet, and takes a moment to fix her hair, flattening the wispy strands that have been mussed up by the dress. She takes one last look over herself and then inhales deeply, filling her lungs before she moves to the door and turns the handle.

Apparently she hadn't made much noise, because when the door swings open, Castle comes stumbling into her, knocking her backwards as he falls forward.

"Jeez, Castle," she gasps, shoving him off her as she rights herself. "Be careful."

"Sorry, sorry," he says, straightening up and running a hand through his hair as he moves back a couple of steps. "I didn't know you were coming out."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have been leaning with your ear up against a door in the first place," she rolls her eyes, smoothing down her skirt again.

When she doesn't get a response, she glances back up to him, only to see her partner's eyes locked on her, an overwhelming sense of _awe_ radiating off him that's so strong she blushes to match her dress. He looks so captivated by her, and she can see the light in his eyes, the upward curve of his lips as he stares at her, chests heaving.

 _This is real. It_ must _be real._

But she still doubts herself, because she'd been so sure before the summer when he looked at her the same way, but then he left her. He left with another woman and didn't seem all that bothered about trying to contact her.

The confusing thoughts hurt her head, so she heaves out a breath, sending him a shy smile as she brushes past him and out of the unflattering light of the bathroom. The sun has already set outside, leaving the living area basked in the shadowed paint of dusk, and a quick glance through the bay doors show that the service car is waiting patiently outside for them. Which is good, because it seems to have started spitting rain out there.

She hears Castle follow her out, his feet heavy on the wooden floor boards and he grabs her clutch from the dining table, passing it over as he steps up alongside her. Accepting it gratefully, she stands there, staring up at him for a few long moments as he watches her right back, his gorgeous blue eyes gliding across her face, and she studies what she can of his features in the dim light surrounding them.

He's such a beautiful man, and she wonders if he knows that.

"Beautiful," she hears, and for a second, she thinks her thoughts have escaped the cage of her brain. Blinking in shock, she shakes her head before she realises the whispered words of adoration were uttered by the man in front of her, the one smiling brightly enough to light the blanket of night wrapping itself around them.

She's blushing, laughing softly as she loops her finger around one of the ringlets bouncing by her cheek.

"You're looking pretty handsome yourself, Castle."

His grin broadens and he reaches a hand out to twist the knob of the front doors, opening them up to the cool summer rain outside.

"I know," he winks at her, before taking her arm in his and pulling her out with him.

She rolls her eyes, not able to help the amused chuckle from escaping her as she follows him.

* * *

The harsh flash of camera lights throw her into a haze the second Castle takes her hand and helps her out from the car. Press and photographers line the walkway to the building entrance, not a red carpet, but it may as well be.

She winces at the sight, ducking her head so the wave of curls flop forward and she grips Castle's arm a little tighter, not realising that this was going to be such a public event.

"You okay?" she hears him ask, his voice low and close to her ear, and she swallows thickly before she raises her eyes to glance up at him.

Thankfully the light rain has eased up now, because the paparazzi catching photos of her looking like a drowned rat would make this an even bigger disaster.

"Uh, yeah," she bobs her head, eyeing the first reporter in line just ahead of them, eagerly pointing out Richard Castle, the famous novelist, and his guest. "I just…didn't expect this to be such a big thing."

"Unfortunately, the Hamptons is incapable of doing anything else," he sighs, following her line of sight. "Listen, Beckett. If this is making you uncomfortable-"

" _No,"_ she cuts him off, a little too harshly judging from the flinch to his shoulders, and she rubs a thumb against his arm in apology, softening her voice. "I'm okay, I promise. Just make sure to actually call me Houghton, okay? In case the word gets back to Bruce."

He grins at her and nods, his face lighting up with the enthusiasm swirling within him. Sometimes seeing him every day makes her forget that he's a celebrity and that he thrives in these public, flashy appearances. She fights to smile back at him, pull her lips upward in a mask of confidence, but the way his eyes are gazing joyously on her makes it easier, and she feels his confidence being slowly absorbed by her own mind.

Lowering himself down, he shocks her with a quick kiss to the crown of her head, and her jaw drops, eyes wide and searching for answers. He graces her with nothing but a wink, before he takes her arm, leading her down to the press line and the sea of flashing lights, all beaming towards them now.

It reminds her of that case, the one where jewel thieves were attending events like this to search for jewellery to steal. Castle had brought her a dress then as well, and led her down the red carpet with a cocky grin and plenty of swagger, while she plastered on her fake smile and just tried to go with it.

This feeling is uncomfortably familiar.

She blocks out Castle's interview with the first reporter, the man sticking a recording device in his face as she hides behind him, hoping to avoid any questions directed at her. Too much attention as to who she actually is won't bode well for either of them, especially if someone recognises her. Not that they should, seeing as she's really just a cop after all.

However, one of the best pieces of advice she'd heard about undercover operations is that sticking out is sometimes the best way to blend in, so hopefully that'll be relevant tonight.

Otherwise she will be in deep shit.

Thankfully, someone else arrives and the reporters go crazy for them instead. She breathes a sigh of relief, slumping slightly against Castle's back as he moves to the last journalist in the line.

Beckett can't see the woman, too busy trying to surreptitiously avoid all contact with the individuals behind the roped line, but she still hears her eagerly gushing about Castle and his books. She can't help but roll her eyes at the way Castle charms her, engages with her flirting, and she glares a hole in his back as she waits impatiently.

She's about to step in and end the interview herself, when Castle nods goodbye to the woman, and _finally_ takes them through the front door.

"Thank God that's over with," he groans the moment they get inside, and she raises an eyebrow at him, hearing the steady croon of music as they follow the corridor.

"I thought you enjoyed being gawked at by blonde women with big breasts?" she asks nonchalantly, hoping that she's managed to keep the bitterness from lacing her words.

"Well, that bit I do," she almost strains a muscle rolling her eyes at hearing his answer. "But press lines can get pretty tedious after a while."

She hums thoughtfully, stretching her neck to help her see into the ballroom a little further away from them.

"Oh, wow," she breathes, awed by the elegant décor of the hall, the small chandelier floating from the ceiling, and the draping curtains and tablecloths made up of red and gold shades, as people dance around the wide floor in the centre of the circling tables. "I will admit that this is pretty nice."

"It's good, right?" Castle nods in agreement, placing his hand above hers where it's resting in the crook of his arm. "Let's just find Herman, say a quick 'hello', then we can spend the rest of the night as far away from him as possible."

She bites her lip, eyes scanning the scene before her. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

They spend the next couple of hours lingering on the outskirts as they nurse drinks from the bar, talking to one another in their own private cocoon rather than the upper class snobs neither of them can be bothered dealing with. After a quick talk with Herman, which of course involved some lecherous but apparently 'subtle' comments about her, as well as a disapproving look from his wife, they'd found seats at an empty table, laughing and joking with one another like old times.

"Okay, but why would someone bring a _rabbit_ to the precinct?"

"It was his pet," she explains to him, shaking her head with a smile as she recounts the tale. "And the poor kid was terrified when we brought his mom in for questioning, so he insisted on taking her with him."

"And she escaped?"

"Espo's not too keen on small animals," she purses her lips, trying to smother a laugh. "So when poor little Muffin got spooked by a drunk homeless guy cussing out L.T, she jumped; Espo _freaked,_ and we spent the rest of the day trying to catch her."

"Oh my god," Castle wheezes, clutching his stomach to try and hold in his laughter, and she can't help but find his amusement contagious. "That is _fantastic."_

"Plus, it turns out the kid's mother wasn't even involved, so we literally made no progress that day other than each getting a cardio workout from chasing a frightened rabbit through the station."

"I can't believe I missed all this," he laughs, wiping a tear from his eye as he leans back in his seat, chest heaving with the lack of air. "Why on earth wasn't I there when this happened?"

She sobers up quickly, gasping in one last lungful of air before the happiness drains out of her, as if his words have pulled out a plug releasing all her positive feelings. It doesn't take long for him to catch on, her lack of giggling cluing him in to something nagging at her, and she sees the moment he realises what he's said.

" _Why on earth wasn't I there when this happened?"_

"Houghton, I-"

"You left, remember?" she says, tilting her lips up at him sadly, and he releases a heavy sigh, his shoulders practically drooping before her.

She studies the floor, picking at her nails as she finds a jagged edge she'd forgotten to file down, worrying it with a focused intensity before his voice calls her back to him.

"Kate, I'm sorry," he says, and she squeezes her eyes shut at the sincerity to his voice. "I didn't think through leaving. It was impulsive and not fair to all of you. I…I thought you didn't need me there, and I didn't really think anyone particularly wanted me around either. But I made a mistake. I hurt you, and I am so, _so_ sorry for doing that."

She has to take a long moment to blink away the tears she can feel threatening to well up underneath the surface of her skin, spilling out all of the sorrow and misery she'd felt when he left. Memories of how she'd broken up with another man for him, only to realise he didn't want her, how empty her life had felt without his constant presence rattling along and lighting her way through the darkness surrounding her world like a torch at her side.

Glancing up, she sees him watching her, his blue eyes wide with apology, and she feels her heart ache for him. She never wanted to pin all her self-loathing on him.

"I broke up with Demming just before you left," she hears herself whisper, the words escaping without her consent. His eyes widen, but he doesn't look super surprised, and she finds herself eager to carry on, the secret weighing heavy in her heart suddenly too much to bear carrying it on her own. "I was going to come with you to the Hamptons."

He slumps back in his chair, jaw unhinging as it goes slack and he just stares at her as a pinched line of pain creases on his forehead.

"You were?" he says on an exhale, his voice breathy with regret.

"I was."

She drops her head, his piercing gaze making her uneasy as it starts breaking through her walls, but then she feels a hand grab hers, squeezing it tightly.

"Let's dance," she hears and looks up, thrown off by the words.

"What?"

"You and I are going to dance," he nods at her, looking as determined as she's ever seen him. "Because apparently we've missed out on an awful lot, and I refuse to let dancing with you wearing that dress be another wasted opportunity."

She finds herself lifting her hand into his as she continues to make eyes contact with him, letting him lead her and her boneless limbs towards the dance floor. Following him, they weave in between the couples swaying around them, the soothing tune of the music humming through the room and making her feel loose and light headed from her conversation with Castle.

Stopping abruptly, he turns to face her, expression soft as he gazes over her, _into_ her as they stand under the glowing aura of the lights. He takes a step closer, his chest almost brushing hers, and picks up her hand, cradling it delicately in his own as she inches towards him, touching her still tender left hand to the soft material of his tux.

They sway together, finding a natural rhythm they've always been in tune with, a dance well practiced in the time they've spent with one another. His gaze is intense, peeling her layers with each blink of his eyes, and she can sense herself melting into him, her body soft and pliant against his as he holds her up, leading them in a gentle waltz.

Her head spins when he twirls her out suddenly, shocking her into laughter as the tension breaks, her skirt flaring out around her. She feels like a little girl again, dressing up like a princess and watching her feet as she spun herself in circles, her skirt billowing out in waves. Drawing her back in, he holds her close as he smiles down at her, her heart warming at the sight, and she clutches his jacket in one fist.

One of his hands is spanning her back, his fingers playing a piano medley that makes her shudder, and it's then she realises how _close_ they are, noses almost kissing as her body is held flush against his. Her stomach flips at the intensity making his eyes grow darker, and she tucks herself over his shoulder, laying her chin on top to take a moment to collect herself.

His head rests against hers, and she sighs at the feeling, breathing in the comforting scent of him as her fingers circle his back where she's looped one arm underneath his. The burn of a kiss touches her hair and her eyes flutter shut, her grip tightening at the contact. She nudges herself closer to his neck, tilting her head to rest against him as she takes a chance, brushing her lips against the skin just underneath his pulse.

The muscles in his back tense underneath her, and she releases a shaky breath when his head turns, nudging hers up slightly as he smudges the most gentle kisses across her forehead, her cheeks, when he reaches her neck and breathes her in, his chest expanding.

It makes her shudder, her heart pumping inside the cage of her chest so furiously that she's terrified it's going to bruise her sternum and burst out in a desperate attempt to meet his own. She shouldn't be feeling like this. This _isn't supposed to be real._

This is Castle.

Richard _freaking_ Castle.

She can't do this.

 _It isn't real._

She jolts away from him, untangling her limbs from his in a panicked frenzy, chest heaving with the rasps of her breath fighting for release. Castle stares back at her, a mixture of shock and hurt painting his face, and it breaks her heart.

 _He shouldn't be doing_ anything _to your heart. This is_ a cover.

"Beck- _Houghton_?"

"I…" her throat clogs, the lump stuck inside getting in the way of her words. "I need to go."

"What's wrong, Hough-"

" _No,"_ she barrels over him, holding up her injured hand where the flare of red still burns bright, as she backs away slowly. "Castle, I _can't."_

"Houghton," he shakes his head, utterly confused, and she wants to bring him closer, tell him she's sorry and just go back to where they were, wrapped up together as they dance.

But it isn't real.

 _Houghton._

She runs.

* * *

Castle stumbles over his feet to get out the car, tripping himself up in his effort to race across the gravelled driveway and back to his porch. The wet puddles from the rain slosh against the bottom of his pants, soaking them through, and he pulls his jacket off to hold above his head in a dismal attempt to stay dry in the pouring rain.

He knows she's here. She has to be.

Screwing his eyes shut to see through the curtain of raindrops before him, he slows down, spotting a faint pink blur hunched over on his porch steps. His chest drops in relief and he hurries over, watching as she looks up, appearing entirely unsurprised that he followed her back when she ran from the gala and caught a cab without him.

She's pretty drenched herself; the satin of her dress slick against her skin, the skirt deflated and dripping water where it's tucked underneath her. Her curls have deflated, still flicking up at the ends as raindrops fall like tears from the strands.

"Espo and Ryan are at the station," she says, voice muted slightly against the pound of rain behind him. "My key's inside."

He looks down, shuffling his feet in the pool of water seeping out from between the stones, and chucks off his jacket so it lands beside her with a waterlogged _thunk._ Beckett glances towards it, then back at him, biting her lip as she tucks her arms around her waist.

The rain is soaking him to the bone, but he doesn't care. All he wants to know is what happened back there, what is terrifying her so much that she won't let herself give into the unstoppable connection that has always sparked between them.

"What was that, Beckett?" he throws his hands up, opening himself up to the pouring sky above him. She immediately looks away, averting her gaze as she shuffles in her seat, the wood wet beneath her. "Hey, you can't just run away and leave me no explanation."

Her head snaps back up to him, anger flashing deep in the swirl of her irises, and he staggers back a step as she gets to her feet, advancing on him.

"Oh, really?" she says, sarcasm dripping venomously from her words. "I thought getting up and leaving was something you enjoyed doing, Castle."

Oh. Shit.

 _Low blow, Beckett._

"Hey, I apologised for that," he argues loudly over the rush of the rain. "And you were busy with Detective Perfect, leaving me to third wheel every investigation. I just left so I wouldn't be in your way anymore."

She gapes at him, looking equal parts mortified and enraged, and if it weren't for the circumstances, he'd find it pretty hot.

"If I remember correctly, you were off sleeping with movie stars the week before, so don't you _dare_ make out I was the only one trying to get over whatever… _thing,_ is between us."

"Why would you even care about that?" he shakes his head, spraying flecks of water everywhere. "You wall yourself away from everyone and shake off any suggestion the two of us could be together."

She takes another step closer, clenching her fists as she practically vibrates with rage.

"You just wanted to sleep with me and be done with it," she yells, voice ringing out the roar of rain. "And I'm sorry, but I refuse to be a notch on someone's bedpost."

His heart sinks inside his chest, deflating like a punctured balloon as it makes his whole body sag.

"You really believe that?"

Her face twists into an expression of grief, and he can see the reflection from the extra shine to her eyes. "I don't know what to believe anymore," she whispers, and he wouldn't have heard it if she was any further away.

"What?"

Dropping her head forward, the tendrils of hair swoop around her cheeks, dragged down by the weight of water, and he wants to go to her, pull her into his arms and take her inside, wrap her in a towel and give her a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

He just wishes she'd let him.

"It's just getting too hard," he hears her say softly, eyes gazing up at him from underneath her eyelashes. "All this pretending. Being Houghton when I feel like I'm still Kate. Spending time together undercover, but feeling like it's still just me and you. I have all these stupid emotions swirling about in my brain and I can't even make sense of them. I don't know what's going on between us right now, Castle. I don't know what's real."

They stare at one another for a long moment, the loud swirl of his mind's unrest drowning out the sound of the rain, until everything quietens down to one thought.

"This," he hears himself say, eyes fixed on the beautiful woman before him, the one he can't believe he ever thought he had a chance of getting over.

"What?" she shakes her head in confusion, but he's already stalking closer, mind made up, and he feels the freeing sense of elation that comes with the inevitability of this entire situation.

"This is real," he says, before he takes her face in both palms and kisses her.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading and for all of the amazing support! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and now I'm going to go into hiding haha._

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

* * *

" _This is real," he says, before he takes her face in both palms, and kisses her._

He feels her respond to him immediately, surging up as she grips his shirt with both hands. She tugs him down closer to the heat of her mouth, and he follows willingly. Tangling his fingers around the strands of her hair, he continues to cup her face gently, stroking away the raindrops on her cheeks with his thumbs.

Her mouth moves against his, seeking more as she presses herself impossibly closer, but he pulls away slightly. It's just enough to rest his forehead against hers and take a moment to breathe her in, look into the pools of her eyes as she watches him, awe and shock reflecting back in her expression.

"Castle," she breathes, hands sliding to his neck as she tilts her head, parting her lips against his as if she can barely hold herself back any more. He knows the feeling.

"It was all real, Kate," he whispers, turning to touch his lips to the corner of her mouth, peppering the skin of her cheeks with kisses that soak up the raindrops. Smoothing one hand down to fist in the sodden material of her dress at the waist, he tangles the other into the dripping strands of her hair and she sighs, shuddering against him. "Every second of it."

She must be freezing, soaked to the bone after sitting out here for so long. Opening his mouth to suggest they get inside, his request goes unvoiced when she captures his lips with her own, eagerly taking the opportunity to kiss him again.

His brain short circuits, all rational thought evaporating from his mind with the feel of her tongue stroking against his, familiar in the most wonderful way.

 _They've done this before, after all._

He drags her closer and their hips bump together so perfectly he can feel the growl rumbling low in his throat. He drinks from the chasm of her lips, savouring every taste as she wraps her arms around his neck and leans back to pull him with her.

She shivers against him again, body trembling, and he's suddenly reminded where they are; making out like horny teenagers in the rain outside his house.

Chuckling at the absurdity of it, he bumps his forehead against hers, and she sighs against him as their lips part with a quiet _smack._ Her nose rubs against his, fingers dancing along the hair at his nape, and he reluctantly slides his hand out of her curls, reaching into his pocket to find his key.

When he holds it up triumphantly, she huffs out a laugh, eyes bright as she watches him so softly that he can't help but dart towards her and press another peck to the temptation of her lips. He interlocks his fingers with her own, the fit of her tiny hands and long fingers odd as they're swallowed by his larger ones, but neither care, and he's sure she can feel the hum of electricity tingling between their palms just as strongly as he can.

She presses against his back as he hurries to open up the door and he shuffles her inside when he does, glad to have turned off the AC before they left.

Jeez, only a couple of hours ago they'd been standing here arguing about the colour of her dress.

Beckett turns to look at him when he reaches over to switch on a lamp, engulfing the black with a faint glow, and he finds himself captivated by her all over again. The way the rain has soaked the material of her dress and flattened it against her skin means it curves around her figure snuggly. The faint flush on the pale of her cheeks and the swollen rose of her lips make him want to dive in all over again, give her even more reasons to blush.

He sees that hunger reflecting back at him in the mirror of her own eyes before they flick down, studying his chest for a moment. And then she pounces, slams herself into him as she throws her arms around his neck.

Moulding his mouth against her kiss with a groan, he pushes her towards the staircase until her back makes contact with the bannister. A breathy gasp breaks free from her as he circles her hipbones with the pads of his thumbs. She starts tugging at his collar, growling into his mouth as she rips the tie away, delving her hands against his shirt buttons as she fights to undo them.

"Feeling a little impatient there, Detective?" he grins against her mouth before she pulls away, lips red and smudged deliciously with the press of his, and she huffs at him, glaring.

"You're wearing a soaking wet white shirt," she says, voice raspy with her shortness of breath. "Of course I'm impatient."

She swallows his laughter with the force of her kiss, and he runs his tongue along the ridge of her mouth, twisting it against hers in a way that makes her moan.

God, he loves that sound.

He wants to hear more of it. He wants more of _her._

She carries on with her eager mission to rid him of his shirt, making him shudder as she starts trailing kisses down his neck. She smooths her tongue over every newly exposed inch of skin and he starts to slide his hands around to grip underneath her thighs, not being able to resist squeezing the curve of her cheeks in the process. He bends down, nudging her back up to his mouth as he dives into her again, hoisting her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

She clenches her thighs around him, rolling her hips as she kisses him deeply, and he has to lock his knees to stop them giving way, his eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"Fuck, Kate," he pants, pulling away from her mouth for some much needed air.

She hums against his neck as he starts walking up the stairs, carrying her oh so carefully until he reaches the top. "That's the idea."

He staggers on the last step, gripping her waist tightly in that one spot he remembers makes her ticklish.

" _Castle,"_ she practically squeals, gripping the material of his half undone shirt where it's hanging off his shoulders, jerking against him.

"See," he says through gritted teeth, trying to focus through his lust-fogged brain to get to his bedroom before he just pins her to the floor and takes her here and now. "I told you it sounds like-"

"You have no idea what I sound like, Mr Castle."

He slams her back against the wall, pressing her palms either side of her head so they're pinned with his own. The feeling of her rolling her hips against his, squeezing her thighs around his waist even tighter before she drops one leg to the floor, makes him screw his eyes shut for a moment against the overwhelming wave of arousal.

"Well I'm certainly going to find out," he grins slyly, watching her widening eyes as her lips tremble in anticipation, her chest heaving rapidly underneath the slick material of her dress. "And to do that, we're going to have to get rid of this thing before you catch pneumonia."

She laughs breathily as he fingers the edge of her skirt, his hand trailing underneath. She sighs, pressing her head firmly back against the wall at the feel of his cold palm skating up the welcoming heat of her thigh, and she slams her eyes shut. His other hand releases hers and slides to the zipper behind her, and she arches her back, pushing her chest up against him to give him access.

The sound of the zipper's teeth parting echoes loudly in the silence around them, only the pant of their breath and the soothing rhythm of the rain outside encasing them both. The feeling of privacy, that this isn't going to be recorded and watched by some sick pervert, makes him that much more confident. Beckett takes advantage of her free hands to finally shove his shirt off his shoulders, and she immediately starts to caress his skin, skimming over his muscles as they tremble at her touch, raking the ends of her nails softly over him.

When the zipper reaches the small of her back, he pauses, watching as she stops her exploration of his skin and just rests her hands there, blinking up at him with wide eyes.

It's as if the reality of the situation has just hit them, reminded them that he's Castle, and she's Beckett, the tag along author and the gorgeous detective who would dance around this idea with teasing and flirtatious banter, but never actually thought it would happen.

"Beckett?" he says gently, not sure what he's asking exactly, but knowing that the use of her last name grounds them both, reminds them who they are and exactly what they're doing right now.

She looks nervous for a couple of seconds, her muscles tensing and he's afraid that she's going to bolt. He'd let her, of course he'd let her. But it doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a knife to the gut.

Surprising him however, she slips out of her shoes and pulls her leg from his waist. She drops several inches, smiling up at him softly as she lifts on her tiptoes to kiss him again, slow and sweet. The height difference is strangely intimate, and he finds himself wrapping around her, wanting more of her as he starts to slide her sleeves down so the dress pools around her hips.

"Are you sure about this, Kate?" It's going to be too late to turn back if she changes her mind afterwards.

"Depends how much you're going to pay me, Castle."

He freezes, pulling away from her neck to stare at her, seeing the teasing grin as she bites the plump rose of her lips and bats her eyes lashes at him, wonderfully half naked. Laughing, he shakes his head, trailing his hand around the curve of her waist towards her stomach as he watches goose-bumps rise along the path of her skin.

He grips the doorknob and grins down at her, letting his eyes trail down the gorgeous span of her stomach, her covered breasts heaving up against the bare skin of his chest and the lace of her bra scratching teasingly against his skin.

"Oh I'm happy to make this worth your while, Beckett," he whispers lowly in her ear, feeling her shiver against him as she grips his shoulder. "I'll just be making my payments in something other than money."

Hearing the hitch in her breath, he pulls back to see her staring up at him, eyes burning with fiery arousal that sets his body alight, and he twists the handle, leading them both to his bedroom.

* * *

He's alone when he wakes up.

The empty space besides him on the right side of his bed is cool to the touch, the rumpled sheets kicked to the foot. His eyes narrow in confusion, delirious with sleep and sex as he pushes himself up onto his forearms, observing the scene before him.

Bright sunshine sweeps in through the sheer curtains, a gentle breeze brushing his skin from one of the windows being cracked open to let some air in, stop the room getting musty with the scent of sweat and arousal. Clothes are still scattered haphazardly over the floor, trailing from the door to the end of his bed, and he chuckles at the sight of Beckett's bra hanging precariously off the arm of his chair.

She's still here. He knows she is.

Listening more intently, he holds his breath as he focuses his hearing on the slight rattle downstairs and the gentle hum of the coffee filter.

Grinning, he flops onto his back, stretching his limbs out spread eagle as he closes his eyes again, letting the memories flash past him.

 _Wow._

He can't believe that actually happened. Even after _three_ amazing rounds tangled up in limbs and bedsheets, oblivious to anything but the feeling of finally being in each other arms, he still can't wrap his mind around the fact that he's somehow been lucky enough to experience this with Kate Beckett. The by-the-book detective whom he's fantasised about, both sexually and romantically, reaching a point so pathetic where he'd wake longingly from dreams where they were just snuggling on the couch holding one another. He can now say with one hundred per cent conviction, that no matter how vivid his imagination, nothing compares to the reality of having Kate in his arms as she breaks apart around him.

Pushing himself back up, he hurries to detangle himself from the rope of bedsheets holding his legs hostage, about to rush down the stairs in his desperation to see her, when he remembers his state of undress. He fishes out a pair of black boxer shorts, hopping on one foot in his haste to pull them on as he leaves his bedroom.

Following the mouth-watering scent of bacon down the stairs, he slows down when he reaches the bottom, sneaking through to the kitchen. His brain comes to a complete standstill and he halts in the doorway at the sight of her.

She's shrugged on one of his white button downs, only the middle buttons fastened as her hair waves in dark rain-dried curls around her face, twisting around her neck as strands flick onto her cheeks. Completely immersed in preparing pancakes for the brunch she's no doubt making, she doesn't notice him lingering, his eyes darkened with arousal as he studies the peek of bare skin where she hasn't done up the top buttons, the sensuous length of her legs as she stands on her tiptoes to reach the higher cabinets.

 _He knows what those legs feel like wrapped around his waist, his_ shoulders, _now._

Not being able to stand another minute without touching her, without feeling the heat of her skin against his, he advances. Coming up so his chest presses against her back, he senses her muscles tense and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in the tangle of her hair.

She jumps, startled for a moment before she realises who it is, and then she melts into him, sighing and resting her head back against his shoulder. She places down the bowl she's just grabbed from the cabinet to cover his hand in hers. Her fingers yank at his own to loosen their hold, just long enough for her to tangle hers in between, intertwine them not unlike he'd done last night when he'd pressed their joined hands back to lie flat either side of her head.

The memory makes him shiver, muffling his groan in her neck, and she twists her head around to press a soft kiss to his temple as she hums in contentment.

"Morning," she whispers, her breath tickling the mussed strands of his hair. She seemed to enjoy running her hands through it the night before, tugging fiercely in a way that was strangely arousing when his face was between her thighs.

"Hey," he rumbles against her shoulder, sliding the material of his shirt down slightly so he can drop a kiss to the naked skin. "Did my method of payment satisfy you last night?"

She laughs, neck arching back and exposing the glorious expanse of kissable skin as she bumps her hips against his, and he struggles not to growl at the heated contact.

"Well, you were very generous," she smiles, her voice low and husky, so freaking hot he has to fight not to lose it again right here in his kitchen, push her against the counter and just go for round four. "But I certainly wouldn't say no to a tip."

The way her eyelashes are fluttering shyly and the faint rouge of a blush tickling her cheeks makes his heart stutter inside his chest. He feels emotions towards her he's never even discovered with either of the women he's been married to, and although he always knew they would be great together, a more intimate version of the daily dance they do, the connection they'd shared last night…it was something else. Something _more._

Unable to take her slow seduction anymore, he slides his hands away from her, spinning her around as he pushes her against the counter, making sure he's away from the stove this time of course. She gasps in surprise, her eyes heating up, darkening before him, and he growls low in his throat.

"I wanted to wake you up this morning," he says, voice low as he nudges his nose against her cheek, his smile kissing her skin as she releases a soft gasp at the proximity of him, pressing right up against her now. "You ruined my plans, Kate Beckett."

A shiver ripples through her, vibrating against his own skin, and her fingers start dancing over his shoulders, smoothing down in between them to stroke against his chest. His hands are planted firmly on the counter either side of her, and he can't help but think what a great idea it would be to hoist her up there, move in between her legs and just _take_ her.

"Are you saying that you don't have plans for me now, Castle?" she laughs breathily, tilting her head to the side to give him access to the length of her neck that has been taunting him since he caught sight of her this morning. "Because if that's the case, I'm going to be disappointed."

"Always have a plan for you, Detective," he grins against her neck, planting a kiss to her pulse point that makes her knees go weak. "And besides, it's more fun to improvise."

With that, he slides his hands down to her thighs, gripping them as he wordlessly signals for her to jump up. Reading his thoughts as well as she usually does, she lifts herself against him so he can sit her on the edge of the counter.

"No hot stoves this time," she smirks, pursing her still swollen lips teasingly at him. "Because they're a real mood killer."

"Definitely no hot stoves," he nods in agreement, eyes wide at the memory. "But breakfast might go cold."

Her eyebrows raise, and her face sobers as she turns towards the delicious smell wafting from the plates of pancakes and bacon she's diligently prepared for them. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, brows creasing with indecision as she grips the back of his neck with the hand not supporting her weight.

The sight makes him swallow hard, and he curls his fingers against the granite surface of the counter, the heated urge of want in the low pits of his stomach.

"Umm," she turns back to him, eyes wide, and he gets lost in the swirls of colour for a moment. "Do you think we could just make it quick?"

He blinks in surprise, staring back at her and watching the way she's chewing on her lip, the flush of arousal already tinting her cheeks, her pupils blown. She presses herself against him and wraps her sinfully long legs around his waist to pull him closer.

"Yeah," he stutters out, gripping the shirt and bunching it around her waist as he dives in to taste her mouth for the first time since last night, murmuring against her kiss. "Oh, I can definitely do that."

* * *

Her skin still tremors with aftershocks even as she digs into the breakfast she made them, slightly cold now but still good enough to eat. The heat of his thigh is searing against hers where they sit beside one another on the floor next to the coffee table, his couch already having been. . .occupied.

She buries her chin into the collar of his shirt, hastily buttoned up again after he'd set his nimble hands to it during their quick, but no less satisfying round four on the couch. The material of his button down lingers with a blended scent of him and her, and the realisation makes her eyes widen.

Castle is still slumped against the foot of the couch, looking blissfully dazed as he picks up a piece of bacon with his fingers and pops it into his mouth, apparently no longer having the energy or brain power to use cutlery right now. The sight makes her smother a grin, pride swarming through her at the evidence of just how much she can do to him.

And the things he's done to her.

Her nerve endings tingle with excitement at the memory, her libido practically running full steam ever since he pinned her to his bed and took her last night, and she bites down on her swollen lips as she feels a blush seep onto her cheeks.

There was never any doubt that it would be amazing between them, but she never realised just how good it can be when there is something deeper involved, something neither of them are too eager to put into words right now. But it's definitely there.

She saw it in the captivated gaze of his eyes as they'd raked over her, studying every inch of skin and imperfection as if he'd never seen anything so beautiful, felt it in the way his strong arms cradled her, holding her tight and close, and she certainly heard it in the startled awe of his voice as they hit oblivion together.

Richard Castle has turned her into a complete sap and she can't even bring herself to care.

"Are you going to eat, or are you just going to keep staring at me?" she chuckles, twisting around only to see his gaze caught on her, his eyes glazed over. "Castle?"

"Hmm?" he blinks, drawing his eyes away from her legs to meet her eyes. "Did you say something?"

"I did, actually," she shakes her head in gentle amusement, not being able to make the elated smile boosted up by sex and endorphins look in anyway reprimanding. "I said you should probably eat before it gets any colder."

The smirk that grows on his face is so smug that she just wants to lean forward and wipe it off with her lips, but she quickly shoves a bite of pancake in her mouth to stem that thought.

"Was I fast enough for you, detective?" he asks, eyes dark, and her breath hitches when she feels his fingers dance over her lower back, skating against the fabric of his shirt.

"You were pretty good," she says flippantly as she turns away from him, trying to smother her smile with another bite of food. "Room for improvement though."

"Oh really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well judging by the sounds you were making I think you enjoyed it well enough."

She splutters, almost choking on her coffee as she whips her head around towards his smug grin, his hand trailing up to play with the tangled ends of her hair _._ Jeez, she really needs to shower.

"Practice makes perfect," she hears herself breathe huskily, voice still raw from the aforementioned sounds she'd been unable to hold in all night. When Castle discovered that she can't help but let out needy little keening gasps whenever she's close, he'd decided to make a game out of keeping her on the edge for as long as possible.

Jackass.

 _Yeah, like you didn't enjoy it._

"It certainly does," his chest rumbles softly, and she finds herself leaning closer towards him, breakfast lying forgotten beside her. "I'd be happy to put in extra work until we get it just right."

Her eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that makes her think of lazy mornings with cups of coffee going cold on the nightstand as they both get distracted by one another, rolling about in the sheets as they lose themselves again and again until they just can't take it anymore.

This is perfect though, his mouth sweet and exploring as it moulds against hers, and her hands lift to delicately touch his cheeks, one sliding down his neck to skirt his collarbone where she's certain she left a rather sizeable hickey.

She gives in to the sinful taste of his lips and thaws against him, sighing as their tongues tangle languidly and they're bathed by the golden glow of morning light streaming in through the windows. The dull flare of heat still simmers in the lowest pits of her stomach, but she's smart enough to know that the twinging reminder of their night together will more than likely turn to an ache of discomfort if they go again so soon, so she cups his face gently, stroking his cheeks before slowly pulling away.

Not at all discouraged, he gives her a blissful half smile before smudging a kiss to her temple, reaching past to steal the last piece of bacon off her plate.

Rolling her eyes, she shoves him away playfully, stretching across the coffee table to grab her phone and check for notifications. One red alert lets her know that she's had a message from Ryan.

"Oh thank God," she heaves out, feeling like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, the block of iced dread lodged uncomfortably in her stomach finally melting. "I don't have to go back to the club."

"What?" Castle pushes himself closer, chin propped up on her shoulder as he reads the text over her, his breath puffing in her ear. "They're going to arrest him?"

"Yeah," she nods, allowing herself the luxury of sagging back to lean against the wall of his chest. "They're going to get him on assault charges along with the drugs and prostitution, which hopefully will mean he's going to go away for a long time. It's not murder, but I guess it's good enough."

"Definitely good enough," she feels him grin against her neck, and she smiles. "Does that mean that blackmail tape we made was actually for nothing?"

Her jaw drops open, and she moves to face him, nudging the crown of his head with her chin where he's buried against the junction between her shoulder and neck.

"Well I've managed to avoid giving it to him up until now, but I can hand it over today just to keep him off my back and then it'll be returned once he's been arrested later today," she explains, stroking the coarse hair along his forearms. "But other than that…I guess it kind of was."

"Well, I certainly don't regret it."

"Of course you don't."

"But anyway, at least now you don't need to go back to that sleazy pimp house and get to stay here with me instead."

"As appealing as that sounds," she starts when she notices him looping an arm around her waist as he presses his face into her neck. "I do actually have to go back and let him know I'm 'quitting'."

"Oh. Really?" he asks, and she can't resist chuckling at how much he resembles a petulant child when he's like this.

"Unfortunately, yes," she says, pulling herself up and out of his arms as she stands up. "But…that doesn't mean we can't do something after."

His face lights up, his beaming grin contagious as she smiles down at him shyly.

"Can I take you out for lunch?"

"Castle," she deadpans, arching an eyebrow at him. "We've been going out for lunch together almost every day for the past few of weeks."

"Yes, but this time I'm asking you out on a date."

Her breath hitches at the words, heart thumping harder inside of her chest.

 _Date._

 _Dating Rick Castle._

It sounds so surreal in her mind, so wonderfully bizarre and _right,_ that she finds herself nodding her consent before she can even think it through.

"Sounds great, Castle."

Maybe this is moving too fast. Maybe this a huge mistake that will lead to them crashing and burning in a spectacular mess. But this has always felt inevitable between them, and for the first time she isn't afraid to find out where this is going to end up.

The delighted smile he gives her only solidifies her decision. She reluctantly pulls herself away, heading towards his shower and making sure to add an extra sway to her hips with the knowledge that he's watching her.

"The usual place?" she hears him call, his voice still a little rough and gravely in a way that does things to her heart rate. "You'll be done by one won't you?"

"Yeah," she pauses, turning back to face him. "And I'll officially be Detective Kate Beckett again."

"But I can still hire your services right?" he smirks, still watching her from his position by the couch, his head flopped back to watch her go.

She rolls her eyes, biting down on a grin as she climbs the stairs and heads to the bathroom, pausing at the top as a sudden thought strikes her. Smiling deviously, she backtracks towards the staircase, leaning over the banister to call down to him.

"Do you want to join me?"

The sound of something clattering to the floor and muffled swearing floats to her ears, and she clamps her mouth down on a laugh as he stumbles up after her, still deliciously clad in just his boxer shorts. He sends her a lopsided grin that has her heart practically melting as she watches him over her shoulder, lowering her lashes as she coyly coaxes him to follow.

Not hesitating, Castle catches up to her, looping his arms around her waist as his feet bracket hers on their walk to the bathroom, the two of them smiling dopily the entire way.

How on earth did she become so pathetic?

Walking back through his bedroom makes her stomach pang with a strange mixture of disbelief and arousal, the evidence of their night together staring so obviously back at her; the strewn bedsheets with pillows down the wrong end of the mattress (oh she knows why that is), the lingering smell of sex, and her underwear flung carelessly on the floor. It all makes her blood rush, her chest tighten with excitement and maybe a little bit of panic, that she did _this_ with Castle; _is_ doing it with him.

He pulls her to a gentle halt just outside the ensuite bathroom, hand to her shoulder in a voiceless request to face him. Doing so, she's taken aback by their height difference this close when she's not wearing heels, and she finds that she quite likes it. The perfect height to snuggle under his arm.

 _Oh jeez, Beckett. Get a grip._

Holding her gaze, he trails his hand down from her shoulder, towards her neck and along the skin between her breasts. Her breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut as he unfastens the top button, eyes never leaving hers even as his other hand joins in and he's exposed most of her naked chest.

"You're gorgeous, you know," his tells her, voice soft and wrapping around her like a blanket as she feels the heat rising to her cheeks. He told her the same thing last night, _numerous_ times, but they were both a little too preoccupied to fully acknowledge his words then.

She releases a breathy sigh, smiling as she dips her head and lets her tangled curls fall forward. Reaching out a hand to lay it flat on his bare chest she watches as his skin ripples at the contact. His heart pumps with a strong rhythm under her palm, matching the eagerness of her own and she bites her lip, glancing up at him shyly.

"What are we doing right now, Castle?" she asks, blinking in surprise at herself when the words slip out.

"Usually I would joke and say 'getting into the shower,' but I have a feeling that wouldn't be appreciated in this situation."

"No, it wouldn't," she smirks, quirking an eyebrow at him. "I mean, I know I was awful towards you while Demming was around, and I'm so sorry for that. You only broke up with Gina a couple of weeks ago, and we've always had… _something,_ but I don't know what this is right now."

He takes her hand in his own, lifting it from his chest to press his lips softly to the tender palm of her skin, the hand she burned only a few days ago.

"Gina and I were over the moment I saw you at that party," he tells her, eyes refusing to leave hers and holding her as his willing captive. "Which, yes, makes me a terrible person, and I am so sorry for being unfair to both of you in that situation. But Kate, you know it's always been you."

The words make her insides somersault, her breath catching in delighted shock, and she inches herself closer to him, drawn in by the captivating hold he has on her so she feels like a moth approaching a flame, careless in the pursuit for what they desire.

"We don't have to put a label or anything on it yet," he tells her, and a small sigh of relief escapes her against her will. She'd truthfully been a little worried that this is going too fast. "Let it just be what it is, and we'll see what happens. Together."

Her eyes crinkle with the happiness she catches radiating off him, contagious as it makes her lift on her tiptoes and capture his lips with a quick kiss of agreement.

"Mm, yeah," she hums, pulling him into the bathroom with her "Together."

* * *

 _A/N: At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I just want to thank everyone for all the wonderful and positive feedback I've received. I appreciate it all so much._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

* * *

It turns out she's been doing a pretty bad job of pretending to sleep with Castle for the past few weeks. She's been arriving at the club tense and miserable every shift, when apparently sex with her partner actually renders her giddy and fighting to keep a smile off her face.

She's the first to arrive for the morning shift once again, with only a few stragglers on their way out when she strides in. It fills her with an elated sense of satisfaction to know that she'll be walking straight back out just like them once she's spoken to Bruce.

He's waiting alone in the changing room, pouring out alcohol into champagne flutes on the dressing table, apparently oblivious to her arrival. It doesn't surprise her in the slightest that he's drinking during the day, but she doesn't want to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, so she impatiently pulls the usb drive with the 'blackmail' he won't actually be in possession of for long, and coughs meaningfully.

It catches his attention and he turns towards her, eyes narrowing to slits as his mouth twists into something she could maybe call a smile.

"Houghton," he tilts his head at her, his gaze immediately zeroing in on the tiny hard drive held out in the palm of her hand. "I see you've finally gone through with my request."

"Yes, well actually," she pulls her shoulders up a little, making herself feel taller despite his towering presence over her. "I also came to inform you that I will no longer be working here."

He freezes, staring down at her with a hard gaze as he searches her face, apparently uncomprehending her explanation. She fights not to shift her feet.

"Oh really, is that so?" he sneers at her, plucking the usb drive effortlessly from her hand as he tucks it into his pocket, moving uncomfortably closer to her. "Because the timing seems a little suspicious to me, especially with the article on page six of all the newspapers this morning."

Her stomach drops like a lead weight, every muscle in her body freezing to solid ice as her breath leaves her lungs in a panicked w _hoosh._ Bruce pulls a double page spread out and holds it up in front of her, just long enough that she can read the bold headlines announcing 'Best Selling Mystery Writer Caught in the Act with NYPD Muse', accompanied by the blurred but unmistakable image of the two of them huddled on the dance floor.

Someone must have recognised her.

Holy Fuck.

She bolts for the door, fight or flight instincts kicking into high gear as she focuses solely on escape now her cover's been blown for the world to see, but an iron clad grip hurls her back, two hands around her neck as she's slammed into the wall. Her mouth gasps open in shock, and it's then she feels the press of glass at her lips, cold liquid filling her mouth.

Startling out of her panicked haze, she struggles against him, trying to clamp her mouth shut against the pull of the hand locking her jaw open, the other squeezing at her neck to force her to swallow. She chokes against it, refusing to swallow any drop of whatever he's laced the alcohol flooding her mouth with, her eyes watering as she claws against his hands, struggling to breathe.

It's only a few more seconds before it gets too much, and her body betrays her as it instructs her to swallow against her will, the cold poison of liquid sliding slowly down her throat, long enough to feel every deadly burn as it goes. Bruce loosens his grip only slightly when he feels the contraction of muscles, and she takes the opportunity to throw him off, smashing the glass to the floor as she spits out whatever is still in her mouth.

At least she only drank half of it.

Bruce charges back towards her before she can catch her breath and force herself to move, fiery with rage as he grabs the front of her shirt, swinging her around so the momentum sends her careening to the floor on the opposite side of the room.

Jumping up, she ignores the flare of pain on her right to throw a swift punch to the side of Bruce's face, hard enough that she feels the crack of his cheekbone under the throbbing in her fist. Her roars, moving with a level of agility she never could have expected as his hand slaps her cheek, making her cry out when she tastes metallic blood as her teeth bite into her tongue with the impact.

It disorientates her long enough for his own fist to retaliate with a jab to her head, he eye swelling up almost immediately with the contact, and her head spins, her entire body staggering backwards as the world tilts upside down around her, vision blurring purple around the edges.

Managing to make out his fuzzy image coming towards her with two outstretched hands, she orientates herself to kick her knee up with as much force as she can muster, fuelling herself with the sick satisfaction of hearing him cry out as his body hunches over in a futile effort to protect his injured manhood.

 _It's doing the world a favour if this bastard can't reproduce._

She staggers around him, hand to her head as she lists towards the door, body running through water as she tries desperately to make her limbs cooperate long enough for her to escape, to get back to Castle and collapse in his arms where he can keep her safe. The viscous fluid holds her back though, her body trembling as she struggles to stay upright, crashing her shoulder against the wall as she tries to keep forcing herself forwards.

Of course he catches up with her, hauling her back in the other direction, making her fall to her knees so hard it jars her teeth, and she struggles to stand again while he makes his way over. He walks slow and sure, a perverse smirk decorating the already colouring bruises on his face, a stream of blood running down one nostril.

He takes her biceps in each of his arms, picking her up with ease as he herds her backwards, down through to his office. She struggles against him, flailing her limbs as she manages to land a few solid hits to him, but it doesn't stop him steamrolling her towards a door at the end, a closet.

Shoving her inside with no mercy, his large build giving him a natural advantage that renders her almost helpless against his strength, he wastes no time in locking the door, leaving her inside the pitch black box; injured, trapped, and alone.

The nausea begins to swirl about in her stomach, an awful sense of light-headedness seeping through every inch of her body, trickling down to her fingers and toes until she's numb all over. She throws herself against the door over and over again in a vain attempt to bash it open, and she focuses long enough to check her pockets for her phone, entirely unsurprised he removed it from her whilst he was dragging her down here.

She thinks she tries to yell, she isn't sure what. She can't hear her voice; she can't hear anything but the furious rushing of her blood through her ears as her shoving becomes more of a weak sway, her body frail, drained as she feels her legs start to give way. Gasping out breaths, she sinks to her knees, scraping her nails down the wood of the door, knowing she's getting further and further away, losing her sanity and her body to the rohypnol he no doubt drugged her with.

Even in this state she knows what's going to happen.

And as her eyes lose their fight to stay open, all she can think is how much she's going to regret not being able to experience life with Castle.

* * *

She's on her way.

He knows she's on her way.

It's half an hour later than they agreed, but she's definitely on her way.

Sighing, he runs his hands down his face as he slumps onto the table in front of him, underneath the canopy of the little café he brought her to that day when he finally convinced her to let him help. The sun is beating down heavily in the midday heat, and he squints against the light to try to see better against the glint of the side walk, hoping he'll spot her lithe figure striding towards him, looking effortlessly like a model as the gentle breeze musses her hair.

He groans, the sound muffled by his palms as he leans against his elbows on the surface of the two person table, cursing himself for getting so sensitive after not even a day being…whatever it is he and Beckett are now. Pulling his phone out from his jeans pocket, he checks for messages again, disheartened when there aren't any notifications from her, and instead just decides to go for it, selecting her name in his contacts to call her.

The dial tone drones dully in his ear, and his mouth twists in an unpleasant blend of confusion and frustration. There's always a possibility that she got caught up there and doesn't have access to her phone, but something still twinges in his stomach, a subtle warning that fuels his unease about this whole situation.

Beckett went to the club with the sole purpose of quitting as her undercover persona, therefore allowing her to leave her cover behind and go back to being a Detective before they get the arrest warrant for Bruce later on today.

She shouldn't still be there.

Dropping his phone carelessly on the surface of the table with a slight clatter, he slumps forward in his seat, thinking through the possible explanations of why she's late for their lunch date. She's made it every other time before.

 _Maybe she freaked,_ his mind provides unhelpfully. _Maybe she regrets everything and freaked because you scared her off._

The negative thoughts swirl inside his head, traveling through the synapses of his brain as he tries desperately to listen to reason, to remember the completely smitten smile gracing her lips when she kissed him goodbye this morning.

She _kissed him goodbye._ That's not the action of someone about to run away from her feelings again.

He should just go down to the club himself, 'pick her up' as he's done several times before, and give her a valid excuse to leave that awful place.

Decision made, he stands up, leaving the half empty cup of now cold coffee to rest on the white and red checked table cloth, stretching himself out with a sigh. He gathers his jacket and slips it over one arm, moving past one of the recently occupied tables with a newspaper still opened up to show a spread inside abandoned on the surface.

Curious, he tits his head to have a quick look, pulling back the cover gently to turn the page.

He entire body ices up, limbs heavy like useless weights as he reads the glaring headline on page six.

There's an image of them both, wrapped up together and completely captivated by one another as they dance, and he scans his eyes over the article. He only has to read the line ' _Loved up NYPD Homicide Detective, Kate Beckett aka 'Nikki Heat', who is thought to be working a case out here in the Hamptons connected to a string of serial killings in the city, may actually be on vacation to visit her new beau'_ before he's reaching for his phone, speed dialling Esposito as full forced panic grips at his insides and constricts his heart.

"Castle, what's up, bro?"

"Espo, I need you and Ryan to get over to my house immediately," he forces out, voice dark and hopefully not as choked with grief as he feels. "Beckett's cover has been blown."

* * *

"Okay, okay, wait," Ryan placates, lifting his palms up towards him as he paces his living room in agitation. "Just calm down for a second."

" _Calm down?"_ he says, somewhat hysterically as his writer's imagination fills his mind with so many twisted and disturbing scenarios of what could be happening to her, right now, as they sit here and _wait_ doing _nothing_ to help her. "She's not answering her phone, and you can't get a trace on it. That means Bruce has realised who she is, taken her somewhere, and is about to do God knows what while we sit on our asses doing _nothing."_

" _Hey,"_ Espo grips him by the shirt, yanking him to a forceful stop as he shakes him. "Get a handle on yourself, bro. You're not going to be helpful to anyone if you don't calm down."

Gritting his teeth, he pulls himself out of Esposito's grip, sighing heavily as he leans against the wall and allows the wave of hopelessness to wash over him, dragging him under as his chest tightens.

"Okay," he wipes a hand over his face, trying to slow his brain down and get himself out of panic mode so he can focus long enough to think. "We know what this guy does to these women. And I think it's a safe bet that he was using the blackmail as part of his motivation, which Beckett also gave him today."

"So he might have been going after her anyway?" Ryan pipes up, taking a step closer towards him. "Maybe finding out who she is just solidified that plan."

"Exactly," he nods, eyes focused on a random spot on the empty couch, where only a few hours ago he and Kate had been wrapped up in a tangle of limbs as they lost themselves in one another. His stomach now churns uncomfortably at the memory. "So do we know where Bruce takes these women? He may have planned to take Beckett there as well."

"That makes sense," Espo says, voice gruff as he narrows his eyes in thought. "But the problem is we don't know where the murders would take place over here. Only in New York."

Shit. That certainly doesn't help.

"Well, the bodies were found dumped in alleyways," Ryan explains, and Castle appreciates the level headedness the younger detective is displaying right now. He's certainly struggling not to just throw caution to the wind and storm the club himself. "So we can assume he'll stick to that criteria. The murders may even have taken place in the club before he disposes of them."

 _Disposes of them._

 _Fuck._

"So let's go," he says, pushing himself off the wall with newly fuelled panic, needing to find her, just needing proof that she's safe. "Check the club, bring uniforms to help search the premises thoroughly. If she's not there, then I think I know where he might have taken her."

"Where?" the two detectives ask in unison, heads turning to follow him as he stalks towards the door, his tense limbs dripping with determination.

"The hotel he hires out," he explains, his brain whirring into high gear as the cogs start connecting in his mind. "That place would be inconspicuous enough not to draw attention, and he has the money to rent out almost half the building. I'm almost certain he has a spare room to keep her in, maybe even somewhere in the basement."

"A hotel?" Espo tilts his head in uncertainty. "That kind of place, especially a high end one, would be way too hard to get a body in and out of, Castle."

"Not if he has a large suitcase or something. That place will be full of them," he swallows thickly, wishing more than anything his partner were here to bounce of his theories. "And the thing about high end establishments with rich tenants? They are notoriously well known for being discrete about practically anything."

The two detectives study him for a long moment, and he fixes his mouth in a line of determination as he holds onto his confidence, trying desperately not to let the overwhelming doubt take him over.

"Even if that's the case," Ryan starts slowly. "We still need to coordinate a plan with the strike team and the Hamptons PD."

"Come on, Ryan," he throws his hands up, the agitation beginning to get the better of him now. "We can't wait for that. She could be tied up somewhere, unconscious, waiting for that bastard to do who knows what to her. We don't have time to wait for reinforcements, and we need to move _now."_

Looking torn, Ryan glances at the phone on standby in his hand, when Esposito steps towards Castle with a meaningful look, his camaraderie and agreement giving him a bit more comfort about this whole situation.

"Alright, fine," Ryan relents, nodding as he tucks his phone away, hurrying with them to the front door. "Let's go get her back."

 _We're coming, Kate,_ he repeats the mantra in his head, wishing she could hear his pleas somehow. _Just hang on for me._

* * *

The world is blurry.

A swirl of greying colours that zoom in and out of focus so rapidly it makes her feel sick, nausea clinging to her insides as the images tilt. Her body feels numb, limbs disconnected from her brain as they droop beside her like heavy weights wearing her down.

She focuses all her energy so that she can blink her eyes, trying to clear her vision enough to make out where she is and what exactly is going on.

 _Cold glass and choking liquid burning as it slides down._

 _A punch to the face that still throbs, pulsating like a heartbeat._

 _Darkness all around, swallowing and taking everything down, down._

She needs to get out of here, needs to _escape,_ that much she is certain of.

Sucking in a trembling breath, her entire body shaking with it as she tries desperately to concentrate long enough to work out where her limbs are, using every ounce of what little strength she has to twitch her arms, tug them just enough to work out that she's been restrained.

Kind of useless seeing as she can't go anywhere right now.

She's propped upright. That much she knows, because her spine is basically rubber right now and without something to sit leaning against she has no doubt that she would careen forwards in a crumpled heap of useless limbs.

But she needs to get out of here. She needs to find Castle and tell him something; something really important that he _needs_ to know but she can't remember what it is or-

"Ahh, Houghton. It seems you have decided to wake from your little nap."

The voice echoes around her head, painfully smashing against each side of her skull as it assaults her senses. Her eyes narrow, trying to focus on the large dark smudge getting closer and closer towards her as the voice vibrates too loudly in her ears.

 _Houghton_. Who is Houghton?

 _Isn't Houghton your middle name?_

"Hough'n, Beckett," the sound leaks from her slack jaw, her lips numb and unable to properly form the words. It's like yelling inside her brain and she automatically winces.

"Yes, Detective Beckett," the voice, the deeper, darker voice is back, talking to her. "That is your name, is it not?"

Her head flops forward, neck aching stiffly far too much to stay upright anymore, and it dangles limply as she lets it hang there.

"I see you're not feeling very chatty right now." Why won't the voice shut up? Why won't it leave her alone and let her see Castle? "That would be the effects of the Flunitrazepam, my dear. You don't seem to be taking it too well, despite the fact you only had half the dosage. It's a pity really, if you'd drank the whole thing, you wouldn't even need to be awake for this."

She feels as though these words make sense in some deep part of her brain she can't gain access to right now, tingling annoyingly at the back of her mind as if this information should mean something to her.

"But, I guess I should take advantage of the fact I have the key player in this entire investigation at my mercy, hmm?" he sounds happy, but not in a good way. It sends off warning bells, ringing too loudly and making her head wince, but she finds herself trying to move her fingers over the silky smooth material binding her hands together behind her back, scratching her nails over it to find a weak spot. "So we are going to have a little chat, Detective."

She's a detective.

Detective Beckett.

 _Detective Castle?_ No. That's not right.

"I wan' Cassle," she slurs, not being able to sense the movement of her lips as her hair dangles in front of her face, impairing her already useless vision as the words escape her.

"Oh, Mr Castle," the man _tsks,_ and the hiss of air makes her suck in a breath, only to choke on it when her lungs refuse to cooperate. "It's such a pity you ruined my blackmail scheme with that little publicity stunt of yours, Detective. That guy could have paid big money. Though, I'm sure you already know all about that with the amount of fuck money he must have paid you for being his delicious little toy."

" _Fuck,"_ her voice catches, her throat constricting at the overwhelming rage she suddenly feels at his words.

"Yes, I bet you two had a good time fucking like rabbits these past few weeks, didn't you?"

"Fuck _you."_

The hand comes out of nowhere, striking her squarely on the cheek as her face explodes with sensation, pain pricking every nerve ending like needles to her skin. She thinks she cries out, she can't be sure. She can't be sure of anything other than the overwhelming hurt that she feels after being numb for so long.

"Now, that wasn't necessary was it?" the voice, gravelly and dark and so much closer to her now, says as he grips her thigh, squeezing it tightly until her foot spasms with feeling again. "But, I do need something from you before I kill you, Detective. And that is what information your delirious mind can tell me about the investigation."

"Won' tell," she murmurs, response feeling natural and _right_ as it leaves her mouth.

"Then I'm afraid things are going to get a little messy before I put the knife to your throat."

She has enough brain power to feel the shiver run down her spine at the words, before she feels a swift punch connect with her ribs, all the air leaving her lungs and stomach on a painful whoosh that leaves her struggling around the bloom of pain. Her lungs won't work properly, not following her command to inhale, leaving her to gasp in tiny puffs that quickly turn to choking and wheezing as she fights for breath.

The questions he asks her whirl around her head, spinning around and getting smaller and smaller until her recollection of what he asked has disappeared before she can comprehend an answer.

"What do the police know?"

 _What do they know?_

 _Know what?_

 _What's going on?_

Her teeth rattle as her head is jarred again, the metallic tang of blood leaking into her slurred mouth as it travels down from her running nose in a trail of red, streaking her face. She loses all concentration on what's happening around her, instead choosing to focus on the sleek silk ties around her wrists, binding them.

The material is soft to the touch, cool and soothing against the tingling pads of her fingers, a wonderful contrast to the explosions of pain blooming all over her. She twists the tie, scratching at a loose thread with her fingernails, burying her thumb inside the knot at the centre of her wrists.

If she just lets her mind swim in the cloud of fog drowning her mind, numbing her to the bruises forming on her face, the gasp of her chest, it's almost as though she's running her hand over rose petals, soft silk sliding over the pads of her fingers. Her thumb catches in the middle of a loop, and instinct tells her to pull at it, nudge the cloth looser so she can rotate her hands behind her back.

Something twinges in her brain as she's flung to the side again, entire body flopping to her left as the chair's shoved, and it manoeuvres her arms enough so that the tie goes slack, the loosened knot now leaving a gaping space for her wrists to slide through. Her head clears a little at the feeling, and she's immediately certain what she needs to do.

Her knee jerks up and spasms with a little bit of feeling, and she forces all her strength in to kicking between Bruce's legs as hard as she can. He growls with pain, crumpling into a blurred heap before her for the second time, and she clenches her teeth, staggering up with all of her concentration. She leans against a decorative pole for support, the stem intricately designed and solid from the feel.

It's not sturdy though, swaying under her weight, and she suddenly has an idea.

The weight of it isn't particularly light, almost too much for her fragile state to handle right now, but she can see the shadowed image of Bruce getting to his feet again, and she feels desperate. Distantly she thinks that it's maybe a candlestick or something, but whatever it is, she grips it with both of her shaking hands, and lifts it off the floor.

The sight of Bruce stumbling towards her again makes her limbs tremble, threatening to give out, but she won't. She _can't._

She angles the pole so that it's slightly more horizontal, and after sucking in one last breath, she swings it, knocking his legs out from underneath him as he collapses again. Not wasting a moment, she lunges for him, whacking the side of his face hard enough to have blood spitting from his mouth, and throws herself on top of him, making sure to land on her elbow as she lets herself drop like a dead weight.

It smashes against his ribs, and she can make out the chilling crunch of bone with sick glee, and it seems to do him in as he lies there, groaning pitifully as she rolls off him, flopping on the floor like a boneless fish.

She rolls onto her stomach, overcome with nausea as her head spins around in dizzying circles, pain crashing against each side of her scull as she shakily pulls herself up onto all fours. Something warm and wet slicks down her chin, and she winces when she gasps in a heaving breath and accidentally tastes it. Everything is sore, throbbing all over as her nerve endings come back to her, firing up angrily and alerting her to all the pain.

Something pounds against her head, a loud thudding noise that feels although it's smashing against the walls of her skull, zipping through her brain so it makes her grit her teeth against the overwhelming noise throwing her senses into overdrive. Her heart burns deep inside the dark caverns of her aching chest, the simple act of breathing becoming more and more difficult as she struggles to her feet, knees giving out a few times and cracking painfully before she drags herself up the wall.

A burst of light assaults her vision and she hears the echo of her own whimper as she's temporarily blinded, eyes refusing to work against the too bright shine as it hits her irises painfully. There are voices too, and for a panic stricken second she thinks it might be Bruce, but when her vision adjusts she can see the smear of his body still rolling about on the floor, moaning pitifully.

"Ryan, he's down," she hears, a voice so familiar to her, but her sluggish brain can't seem to place it as she slides along the wall, towards the light as she props herself up against it and takes heavy steps forwards. "We got him, he's already down. Might need a bus."

"He's definitely going to need one."

 _Guys, I'm here._

She must be hidden in the shadows, blending in against the blurred darkness, or they just haven't spotted her yet. Her mouth doesn't respond when she tries to call out to them though, the numbness seeping back into her bloodstream as her throat constricts against nothing, lungs struggling for air.

"Beckett?"

 _That voice…_

"Kate, are you here?"

 _I'm here, I'm right here._

"Castle, we told you to stay back-"

"I don't care, where is she?"

 _Castle._

She uses her last crumb of strength to lift her fist and slam it against the wall, jarring her fragile bones as if her skeleton is made of glass, splintering at every touch. Using the momentum, she shoves herself away from the wall, collapsing _hard_ onto her knees as she falls into the steak of light from the open door they must have come in through.

" _Kate,"_ his voice gasps, but she doesn't have the energy to lift her head and watch him rush over to her, only bathes herself in the warming relief that he's found her. He can keep her safe now when she gives in. "Oh, shit, Kate. I thought I lost you."

Her head is bowed down, forehead touching the cold concrete of the floor, and she tries to move, pushes herself with all her might to lift herself up to see him, to wrap her arms around him and just crawl into his lap while he holds her. But her body won't listen, only remains numb, immobile while her brain screams.

Strong arms grasp her shoulders, lifting her so she's sitting upright, and she can still see him, his ragged face as he gazes down at her in tearful relief, hugging her to him so the her head rests against his shoulder.

She tries desperately to move her mouth, beat her protesting vocal chords into submission so she can speak to him, say anything and everything, but it feels like her mouth has been stuffed with cotton wool, tongue thick and heavy and _unable to move._

"Beckett, are you okay?" he asks, breath puffing from his chest as it rises soothingly beneath her. "Kate, talk to me, what happened?"

 _I don't know what's happening, Castle._

He pulls her limp body away, stiffening against her and she wants to cry, tears welling up in her lifeless, still observing eyes.

"What's he done to you?" he says lowly, almost to himself as he watches her slump against him again, not able to hold up her own weight with her rubber spine. _"_ Holy shit. What the hell has he done to you, Kate?"

 _I don't know, oh God I don't know._

"Guys," he yells over to Ryan and Esposito, who she can only assume are securing Bruce. "We need an ambulance, right now. She's not moving."

 _Oh shit, I can't. I can't move._

As the terror of that realisation finally sinks into her, settling uncomfortably on her motionless limbs, she can at least find comfort in the fact she can feel Castle's skin soothingly warm against the stone stillness of her own.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading and for your wonderful comments!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	16. Chapter 16

**C** **hapter 16:**

* * *

Lights blur around him in a dizzying array of blue and red, fading his vision out with purple as he jogs after the paramedics. They're wheeling Beckett towards the ambulance on a gurney, her head flopping lifelessly to one side as her arm dangles. He itches to reach out and grab hold of her hand, enclose it safely in the cradle of his own palm, but the two people pulling her along to the ramp shoo him away.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Ryan and Esposito are still inside the hotel basement and directing CSU where to sweep the place before coming up here to deal with the very pitiful Bruce, who is in a secured ambulance of his own.

 _Good. If she_ _'_ _s in one, then he better be too._

The boy's responsibilities leave him to chase after Beckett, keep her calm and steady during what the experts tell him is a temporary paralysis caused by a drug dose, most likely something combined with rohpynol. Her heart rate has decreased substantially, her vital signs weak as they precariously wheel her into the ambulance, and the knowledge that she's going to be stuck in this awful state where her brain is still awake but her body is not makes him sick to the stomach.

He's going to kill that bastard if anything else happens to her.

Gripping hold of the handle bar and squeezing onto it like a lifeline, he hauls himself up once he loses sight of the paramedics, climbing into the vehicle after her. An arm shooting out blocks his way and he fumbles to hold his balance, only to fall back on the side walk again with a huff.

Glaring up at the man responsible, he sees the fair haired kid watching him sternly with a shake of his head, and Castle almost loses it right there.

"Sir, essential personnel only," he explains slowly, glancing down from the elevated floor of the ambulance as he scolds Castle like a child, despite the fact this guy is practically still one himself. "We'll take good care of her and you can come and see her once she's stable again."

 _Okay, enough of this._

"Alright, kid. You need to listen to me," he leans in, voice low and he finds himself tall enough to get in this guy's face and intimidate him into letting him on. "That woman in there? She's my partner, and she is currently falling in and out of consciousness with very limited ability to move. Someone she trusts needs to be here. That person is me and I swear to God if you don't let me on here, I will throw you out of this vehicle myself."

The guy looks startled, completely taken aback by the intensity of Castle's demand. Truthfully he'd usually find it quite hilarious, but not right now. Nothing is funny about this situation.

Taking a quick glance back at a slightly older paramedic, most likely his senior colleague, a quick nod is exchanged between the two and the kid tugs on Castle's shirt sleeve, pulling him up into the ambulance. He can't even focus long enough to spare quick thank you, instead stumbling over himself to reach Beckett, still passed out on the bed at the far end of the space.

He drops to his knees as the ambulance finally hits the sirens and starts driving, and ignoring the fussing paramedic, he shuffles over towards Beckett's head, watching her glazed-over eyes slowly focus on him. It makes his heart ache for her, desperation to take her discomfort away almost too much for him to bear.

"Hey, honey," he coos softly, voice low enough for only her to hear, _if_ she can hear. He has no idea how much coherence or mobility she has right now, how much she is able to sense and understand. The thought breaks him that much more, cracks spider webbing through from his skin to his nerve endings. "I bet you'd kick my ass for calling you that if you could."

The watery chuckle he releases belies the bravado of strength he's trying to exude to the paramedics, to _her,_ as he gently smooths the wispy strands of hair away from her face. His thumb lingers at the shell of her ear as he traces it, watching as her eyes follow his movements tiredly, her blinks slow and long.

Each time it leaves him fearing they won't open again.

The jostle of the vehicle bumps him as it speeds off, sirens blaring outside as the paramedics rush around, hooking Kate up to monitors and checking her vital signs once again. It makes him nervous when they express their worry about her decreasing heart rate and oxygen levels, and he's suddenly shoved out of the way to make room for a woman securing a mask over her face.

As soon as she rushes away again, going to the opposite side to check her pulse, he makes a move back towards the head end of the bed, a rough patch in the road almost causing him to stumble to the ground.

Her eyes are wide when he comes back into her line of sight again, but he notices the definitive softening at the corners when she makes him out, and he kneels down beside her, taking hold of the arm dangling from the bed. Squeezing it, he tries to get her blood flowing in hopes that it might help her regain some feeling and ward off the numbness of her limbs.

She blinks at him, eyelashes fluttering as a cloud of her breath condenses against the oxygen mask covering her face. He leans up, propping himself higher on his knees as he attempts to ignore the furious chatter of the paramedics, the unevenness of the road, and just focus on her. Leaning in, he dusts a soft kiss the sweat slicked skin of her forehead, and her lids droop shut as she sucks in a heavy breath, hand contracting ever so slightly in his own.

 _That_ _'_ _s my girl._

"Beckett?" he asks, soothing a thumb against the red mark of her burn still lightly marring the skin. "Can you feel that?"

Her eyes droop again, chest stuttering and her hand goes limp, leaving him anxious and disappointed that she's lost in the darkness again. He'd hoped she was coming around.

"Hey, I think she was able to move a little just now," he explains to the woman next to him who's busy adjusting the monitors. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Let's hope so," she sighs, looking down at Beckett while she's being swallowed up by whatever drug she was dosed with. "Honestly we don't think it's just funitrazepam in her system right now, which is extremely dangerous in itself when alcohol is mixed in and judging from the evidence found it was. But we think this may be some kind of alteration to the product, or it was laced with a muscle paralysing agent or sedative to cause a reaction this strong."

"But…you can help her right?" he asks, his concern undoubtedly clinging to his features like he's wearing a neon sign. "It'll wear off?"

"It should do, Mr Castle," she smiles sincerely, and he suddenly feels a little better. "And we can help get rid of whatever toxins are in her system once we have her settled down and her vital signs stabilised."

"What about everything else? She's covered in bruises, something could be broken-"

"The moment we arrive at the hospital she will be checked for internal trauma and bleeding, and any other complications will be made clear to you."

Nodding, he tries to force a smile on his face that isn't as tense and hollowed out as he feels, and then leaves the paramedics to do their jobs. They seem calm enough, just keeping an eye on all of the beeping monitors and readying the gurney for when the ambulance arrives, so he turns back to his partner, her eyes still glued shut as her lungs hitch in a struggle to breathe.

He tilts his head, watching her for any sign of change, each minuscule twitch or flicker beneath her eyelids engraved on his brain. It's only now, when the panic galloping inside the gaping hole that used to be his chest starts to ease, adrenaline wearing off, that he studies the other injuries on her.

The swollen black eye and numerous bruises speckled across her lithe body, a canvas that was silk white this morning now mottled with colours of pain. The hand he's still holding is cold to the touch, drained and pale, and he lifts it to his mouth, smudging his lips against her palm as he just breathes her in.

A tight turn by the ambulance driver, and the vehicle suddenly comes to a halt, the vibrations easing below his feet as he's shuffled out of the way for the paramedics to get Beckett out. He tries desperately to keep hold of her hand, to stay with her, but they wave him back from her, wheeling her off and away from him without another word.

* * *

It takes around ten minutes of wandering down random corridors at the fastest jog he dares before he locates someone who knows Beckett's whereabouts. Thankfully they've already been informed that she's a police detective whose undercover operation has been blown, and he thinks Espo or Ryan may have called ahead when the nurse seems to immediately accept his insistence that he's her partner.

Because he is. Official or not.

The nurse seems to be a fan of his books too, which always helps in his favour when he's recognised, so after a little schmoozing, she explains that Beckett's being checked over and that she should hopefully be out soon.

He collapses into an uncomfortable plastic chair shoved at the side of the corridor. This isn't a waiting room, and he refuses to risk being booted away from here by asking where the more comfortable seating is, but it still eerily reminds him of when he was here with Beckett a couple of weeks ago.

Ears ringing with the echo of heart monitors and police sirens, he slumps down so he can hold his head in his hands, letting the exhaustion finally hit him after all this.

How the hell has this happened?

Only this morning he and Beckett were making out like promiscuous teenagers, as well as doing a lot more _adult_ activities, and he felt like things had finally fallen into place, their two pieces slotting together like a jigsaw. But now, in only a few short hours, all of this has crashed down around them, the case catching up and kicking them to the ground.

He pulls out his phone, sighing heavily as he checks the notifications. There's a message from Espo stating that they're on their way now that everything has been secured and taken over by the Hamptons PD at the crime scene.

 _Crime scene._

No. She's not dead. Don't even go there.

At least the power of having a badge will allow the three of them access to the vital information they need.

He feels like he should call Jim Beckett, let him know what's going on. But he's never even met the man and only heard about him through his daughter, so it's not like he just has his number lying around.

 _Speaking of daughters_ _…_

His fingers automatically select Alexis's contacts on his FaceTime, and he pulls himself up and checks that the lighting is decent enough, before he holds his phone out a little in front of him.

She travelled home this week with his mother, and the two of them decided to spend a while in the city before travelling out here. As much as he missed her, there's no way he wanted her out here with him while he was part of this investigation.

It's not long before a brush of red hair lights up his screen, and Alexis beams back at him, sitting at the bar stools in the kitchen with his mother next to her.

"Hey, Dad!"

"Hi, Pumpkin," his lips tilt up in a lopsided smile, about all he can handle right now. "And Mother. I hope your play went well."

In a whirlwind of colour his mother pokes her head over Alexis's shoulder, grinning brightly at him as she waves an arm and sends her pieces of jewellery rattling against one another.

"Hello, Darling," she greets, placing her hands on Alexis's shoulders as the girl looks on in amusement. "It was wonderful; rave reviews all around."

"I went to see it closing night," his daughter chimes in, bobbing her head in enthusiasm. "Grams was great."

Oh, his family. His happy little bubble he didn't realise how much he leaned on for levity during tough cases like this, not until they weren't with him.

He wonders what it must be like for Beckett taking this home every night.

 _Beckett._

"That's fantastic, Mother," he says, actually feeling the darkness begin to drain from his veins as he talks to them. "I'm so proud, and I wish I could've been there."

"Oh, don't be silly, Darling," she waves him off. "You've been helping Beckett out with this case of hers, much more exciting."

He hangs his head, eyes squeezing shut at the words as the memories come flooding back and assault his senses. Throat tightening, stomach twisting in knots of dread that make him worry he'll throw up as the images of Beckett collapsing on the floor, matted with bruises, flash in vivid technicolour behind his eyes.

"Dad?" he hears, and he winces at the concern woven in his daughter's voice, wanting to protect her from all this and allow her to keep her innocence just a little longer. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, Richard you look stressed."

He huffs out a laugh at the ridiculous understatement, shaking his head before he faces his family again.

"Well," he begins, swallowing thickly against the tight build-up of dread in his throat that's making his voice groggy. "There's been a slight…complication, in Beckett's undercover operation."

As the words leave his mouth, a flurry of staff rush past him, thankfully heading in the opposite direction to where Beckett is, muttering loudly and appearing in an array of slight panic.

"Dad, are you in a _hospital?_ _"_ Alexis catches on, her mouth dropping open into a small 'o' of horror. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he reassures her with a swiftness that will hopefully stem her panic. "But Beckett's cover was blown this morning." He's assuming they wouldn't have seen the article in the Hampton's local newspaper, so at least they wouldn't have expected any trouble.

"Oh my gosh," his daughter gasps, leaning closer to the screen as one hand comes up to cover her mouth. His mother looks equally worried, her natural flamboyance fading to worry as she watches. "Did they hurt her?"

"A little, I'm afraid, Pumpkin," he sighs, eyes downcast, almost as though he's afraid to watch the two as he tells them this. "And she was pretty heavily drugged, so they're just making sure she's going to be okay."

"What about the guy, did you get him?"

The genuine chuckle that arises at the thought of Beckett still managing to take Bruce down even while injured and heavily drugged makes him feel a little lighter, not even surprised that she did it.

"Oh yeah, Beckett got him. He's being checked out and then he's going away for good."

His mother comes around to stand besides Alexis's stool, leaning in closer towards the screen.

"Darling, should we come up there now instead of next week?"

Oh crap, yes. They were both supposed to be coming to the Hamptons for the last couple of weeks before the summer vacation ends, but he doesn't want them to be here until he's certain all traces of this case are put away and everyone is safe. Until _Beckett_ is safe.

"No, mother. It's okay, just come when we planned," he reassures her, watching her shoulders deflate slightly on a sigh. "We still need to sort a few things out here."

"As long as I can see Beckett, you know, to make sure she's okay," Alexis says, lifting her chin up in determination for her request, and he finds himself nodding in agreement.

"Yes Alexis," he tells her, a soft smile pulling at his cheeks at his daughter's devotion. "She'll be here. She'll be fine and better then, too."

Maybe if he repeats the words enough he'll start to believe the mantra himself.

* * *

"Castle," he hears echoing down the corridor, invading his dreamless sleep as he jolts up against the back of the seat. "Bro, where is she?"

Esposito and Ryan come storming down the hallway, ignoring the curious and somewhat disapproving looks from hospital staff they pass by, heading straight towards him with steeled gazes.

"Have they taken her in?" Ryan asks, his mask of intimidation fading the moment they reach him, concern for his sister in arms sketched on every line of his face. "She's stable now, right?"

Brushing his hands against his jeans, Castle pushes himself up, sighing with the weight of anxiousness and exhaustion pushing down on him as he stands to greet them sombrely.

"I think so," he nods, voice gruff with disuse from the short nap he'd managed to catch. He thought it would help, but instead his mind just plagued him with images of his partner battered and bruised as she slipped into a state of paralysis that shocked her lungs too much to breathe. Too bad reality isn't much better at the moment. "She's down there being checked over for internal injuries or any more trauma, and then once she's stabilized they should bring her back out to us."

Espo grunts in acknowledgement, fists curling at his sides as he stares down the never-ending corridor as if has a chance of seeing her. "I'm having that bastard locked up for murder now whether we have the evidence or not."

Something coils inside his stomach at the thought, at the possibility that the awful bastard who murdered those women and assaulted and tried to kill Beckett might still get off with an easy sentence. He can't. It's just not an option.

"Well surely this is attempted murder, right?" he finds himself asking, eyes wide as he searches the two detective's faces. "You've got to be able to get him on this."

"Well the M.O. is certainly the same," Ryan nods, averting his eyes for a moment while he tilts in deep though. "So hopefully with a statement from Beckett, it'll work out okay and we'll be able to charge him for everything."

His shoulders slump a little in relief, as though hearing that the awfulness of the day's events wasn't completely pointless after it all. Despite the amount of crap Beckett's had to deal with, if she pulls through, she'll be happy about this fact.

"Where is Bruce now, anyway?" he asks, spine tightening slightly at the thought of that asshole of a man nearby, making him stand up straighter and draw his shoulders back on instinct. "She beat him up pretty good. He's at least going to need stitches."

"Oh he's going to need more than just stitches," Esposito sends him a dark smirk that speaks of his complete hatred of this entire situation, much like him. "She fractured his jaw, and his ribs are bruised too, so he's being kept in a high security ward in the hospital, and he'll be supervised twenty-four seven until he's allowed to be transferred to the station."

He nods, catching the inside of his cheek between his teeth before opening his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by footsteps heading purposefully towards the three of them.

"Family of Katherine Beckett?"

He practically stumbles into Ryan in his haste to spin around, righting himself quickly as the younger detective helps to steady him with a hand to his shoulder, all of them desperate for news.

"We're her partners," Espo says, short and leaving no questions as he lifts his badge up from the chain around his neck, flashing it towards the scrub-clad male doctor waiting with a clipboard. "So yeah, we're family."

The man watches them warily for a moment, reaching a hand up to rub a hand against the stubble of grey forming his slight beard. His gaze rakes over each one of them individually, noting the naked concern spilling over their faces as they wait for news, for confirmation that she's okay and that the drugs or the beating haven't done any lasting damage to her.

He's a writer, and he's no idiot. He's well aware what an overdose of flunitrazepam can do, and what can be unwillingly done to the individual dosed with it.

It makes him want to throw up.

Sighing heavily, the doctor dangles his clipboard down to his side, lifting one hand out to motion towards the three of them.

"I'm assuming you'll notify her next of kin?" he asks pointedly, a grey caterpillar of an eyebrow raising in question.

"Already done, Sir," Esposito answers, lifting his chin up from where he's standing beside him in an effort to assert more authority over this guy.

He's glad that the boys had the sense to call and explain the situation to Jim Beckett though. Informing him of Kate's state in the hospital is not exactly how he expected the 'meet the parents' stage to go.

 _If they even make it to that now._

"Can you just," he chokes out, all his pride drained from him and swallowed up by exhaustion and the need to _know,_ to find out she's okay. Ryan and Esposito stand unflinching beside him, and he's well aware they feel the same. "Just tell us if she's going to be okay."

The man nods in apology, lifting his clipboard again to flick through to the first couple of pages.

"Well at the moment it seems Detective Beckett's vital signs have recovered well, not as much as we'd like, so we'll keep a close eye on her while we wait for the drugs to wear off and completely leave her system," he explains, and Castle lungs fill with relief that she's at least okay. "Thankfully, her body appears to have handled the dosage well, especially considering the fact it was mixed with alcohol and what we suspect is a muscle relaxant to incapacitate her movement more. It's a very damaging combination, and likely what was administered to the other victims in your case, and if she had been given much more, there's a very high chance she wouldn't have made it."

The whoosh of air stutters out of him at the words, and his stomach twists with dread.

"CSU found a smashed champagne flute with about half a glass of the laced alcohol spilled around it," Ryan begins, his voice small as he recounts the information. "I think he _was_ planning to, but Beckett got away in the struggle."

"That sounds like, Beckett, alright," he finds himself adding, voice tight even as he tries to force a small smile over to Ryan. Glancing back over towards the doctor, he tries to keep the desperation from leaking through his voice when he asks his next question, the one that's been swirling in his mind ever since she was taken from him. "Can we see her?"

"Well, she's likely to remain unconscious for the next few hours, until the drugs wear off completely," he tilts his head towards him, explaining the situation so neutrally Castle can't tell whether he's going to allow him in or not. "And, obviously, she's suffered from a couple of bruised ribs and some other lacerations that will cause some pain. But, if one of you wishes to sit in there and try to keep her relaxed in case she comes around a little, I am happy to allow that."

Castle's heart soars inside his chest, the first real piece of hope he's felt since he saw that article in the newspaper hours ago, but he turns to the guys beside him, knowing that they'll want to see her too.

"Castle, go," Ryan smiles at him, a real one this time born of the relief from knowing she's going to pull through. "Javi and I are going to go a head back to assist Chief Grover with the charges, make sure he doesn't miss anything out."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want-"

"Go ahead, bro," Espo pats him on the arm in agreement, some of the darkness seeming to have left him as he chuckles. "We know you guys are inseparable at the moment, and she'd want you there when she wakes up. We'll come back and see her tomorrow."

He smiles at them in gratitude, huffing out a weighted breath containing his worries and panic over the last few gruelling hours.

"Make sure he gets what's coming to him," he tells them, and with their determined nods of agreement, he follows the waiting doctor down the corridor to finally see his partner.

* * *

She lies still in the hospital bed, her porcelain skin pale and drawn with a slight sheen of sweat reflecting off the bright lights throughout the ward. The sheets are tucked in around her, bleached white and clinical, and it makes him want to go home and collect his comforter, the one she's only been able to spend one night wrapped up in, tuck her in so she feels more a home.

But he won't leave her. He can't, not even for a moment.

The gentle lull of her breathing, still aided by the oxygen mask helps soothe him; the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest visual evidence that she's still alive and here with him. He watches her from the cushioned visitor's chair he's pulled up to her bedside, resting his elbow on the pillowed mattress beside her so that he can keep watch and make sure everything is okay.

He tells himself that maybe it would be best to go home and shower, maybe bring some clean clothes back here for her, but he refuses to let her wake on her own. The thought of her arising from her sedation, weaving in and out of consciousness with no sign of abilities to talk or move yet, makes his heart splinter inside his chest, the cracks spreading until the crevasses are too deep to handle, and he knows he can't bring himself to do it.

She has showed signs of awareness in the couple of hours he's been sitting here; a twitch of muscles in her hand, her fingers clutching as if she was searching for something or _someone_ to hold on to, so he'd slipped his own fingers between hers without hesitation. She'd clutched back weakly, and the fact she's so obviously fighting back against this poison in her body, seeping through her bloodstream, made him soar with the knowledge that she'll pull through it.

Around half an hour ago her eyes had even opened up, pupils unfocused and cloudy, but he'd still felt an ease in her tense muscles when he pushed himself over her, into her eye line to call her name. They'd fluttered shut again soon after, her dark eyelashes painting shadows down her cheekbones and the bruises marking her face, swelling just above her eye.

Sighing at the memory, he sinks further against his elbows resting on the bed, her hand still cradled in his as he strokes his thumb over the torn skin of her knuckles. He watches her face for any sign of life, a crease in her eyelid as it struggles to open, or even just a hitch in her breathing before her hand constricts a little tighter around his.

Visiting hours had ended a while ago now, but he's refused to budge from his guard post by her side. He'd resorted to flirting with a younger nurse, likely a woman not long out of med school, who's a fan of his books and didn't seem to begrudge him staying quietly by his partner's bedside for the night.

In fact, she recognised Beckett's name from the few articles their unique partnership have been mentioned in, including the one released this morning and cause this entire mess, and seemed to respond well to his 'loving devotion' as she had coined it, to Beckett.

Well, it's not exactly untrue.

They haven't had the chance to put a name on this still so new development in their relationship, but he knows he cares for this woman more than he has any other girlfriend, or even _wife,_ if he's feeling brave enough to admit it to himself. It just depends on whether she feels the same way about him.

Drowning himself in his thoughts, the only company he's had for the past few hours, he lowers his head so that he can rest against the mattress, staring downwards so he can watch the rise and fall of Beckett's chest and stomach as her body practises breathing again. He stays there, shielded from the harshest lights by the dark blue curtain pulled around them and listening to the repetitive _beeps_ from the monitors she's hooked up to, hoping that he can empty his mind and get some rest.

About ten minutes pass, and he's about to give up and pull himself back upright, when he hears a soft sigh, the long slender fingers caught in his twitching.

Gasping, he jolts up so quickly his vision washes out with a head rush, before it clears and he's greeted by the beautiful sight of her blinking up at him.

"Beckett," he breathes out, too shocked to speak above a whisper. "Kate, you're awake."

Her face scrunches slightly, her nose twitching as her fingers strain, trying to stretch against his. If she weren't stuck in a hospital bed and dosed with temporary muscle paralysing drugs, he'd find it adorable.

She looks as though she's struggling to say something, and the chance that she might actually be able to compels him to lift the mask from her face, letting her suck in a breath as the cold air hits her skin again.

"Cassle," she hisses through the slight gap between her cracked lips, and even sounding strained and weak, it doesn't deter the tearful smile blooming on his face. "Cas-"

"I'm here, Kate," he tells her, bracketing her head with his elbows as he lowers himself down, pressing a lingering kiss to the waxy skin of her forehead. "It's okay, you're alright."

A whine escapes her throat and her hand clenches again, more forceful this time, her fingers quivering, but still weak in terms of normal movement. It takes him a few seconds before the awful realisation overcomes him.

She still can't move.

Heart shattering with the force of that thought, he distantly notices the tear tracing its way down his cheek, rolling over his nose to the tip. He buries his face in the crease between her neck and shoulder, holding her hand to his chest so that it's sandwiched between their bodies.

Another choke breaks free from her, and when he glances up he can make out the pained confusion in her blurred eyes, the panic that comes with the incomprehension of this entire situation.

"Shh, it's okay," he breathes against her, letting his voice wash over her skin and ruffle her hair. "You're going to be okay, I promise you. It won't last long, sweetheart."

Her chest stutters beneath him and he suddenly panics, pulling himself off her to reach for the oxygen mask again.

"No," he hears her gasp, voice raspy with the lack of use, and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Back. Come back."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kate," he brushes his hand over her hair, sweeping away the floaty strands and tucking them behind her ear, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that's leaked from the corner of one eye. "I'll be right here with you."

"Up," she struggles to move her lips, and he leans in close again to hear her better. "Come up."

His mouth drops open, glancing at her fragile body still pretty much immobile looking and small in the hospital bed. He doesn't want to deny her anything, especially if it'll make her feel better, but she's still struggling to breathe, and resting on top of her certainly won't help that.

"Beckett, I can't. I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," she says, her eyes floating shut again. "Better with you here."

Glancing at the oxygen mask still in his hands, he slowly moves to secure it over her, taking a seat back in the chair beside her pillow. This time however, he pulls himself half up, draping one arm over her stomach to trace a series of random patterns she probably can't even feel over her belly button, travelling around to the ribs on her good side, while his other hand keeps hold of hers.

He peppers it with kisses, bringing it in close to him and she sighs, a puff of air releasing beneath the mask. Her eyes drift slowly shut, her body relaxing again, but her hand still squeezes his weakly, fingers curling around his chin to stroke against his stubble when he brings it to his mouth for another press of his lips.

If she's at least regained feeling here, then it shouldn't be too long until the rest of her body catches up.

The tip of one finger wriggles away from his hold, pointing up to tap on the tip of his nose, and he laughs, startled as he glances up to see one eye cracked open and watching him, and he can make out a smile underneath the mask.

"Go to sleep, Kate," he says softly, bringing her hand to rest against his cheek. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

And she does.

* * *

 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I really appreciate you all taking the time to read!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

* * *

 _A/N: This chapter contains brief mentions of sexual assault_

* * *

She's swimming in the darkness.

Her chest rises and falls with an easy rhythm, almost effortlessly, even though it feels like a heavy weight is crushing her from above, the pressure making her body weak. Nothing moves, her brain refusing to connect to her nerve endings and lift her arm to scratch at the irritating bruise on the crook of her elbow, sore and bothersome as it pulses.

A rising sensation washes over her suddenly, a wave pushing her upwards so she can hear the echo of muffled voices floating around her like passing fish as they brush against the hot sweat of her skin.

They begin to get louder and louder, distinguishable in pitch as the familiar tone in one makes her heart pump faster, her pulse rushing through her ears. Her fingers begin to tingle, a strange pins and needles sensation travelling down to her toes as it slowly seeps up her body, almost painful in the overwhelming messages being sent to her brain that has been numbed with feeling for so long.

Shifting, she begins to struggle for movement, eager to shake her limbs free of the thick stinging that she can feel everywhere. Something holds her down though, the deep familiar voice sounding a lot closer now as she stills at the contact.

"Hey, Kate," he says, and she distantly realise that she knows this voice. "Calm down, you're alright."

Her eyes squeeze shut, unhappy with the weird burst of light behind her eyelids, and she sucks in a deep breath through her nose.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" She huffs out a muffled whine of frustration as she tries to catch her bearings, her limbs continuing to prickle uncomfortably. Her lids flick open a little though, immediately assaulted by the brilliant shine of sunlight, and she clamps them shut again, wincing. "Hey, that's it. I'll close the blinds for you, so see if you can do it again, okay?"

The warmth encasing her forearms dissolves as she hears the footsteps move further away from her, getting fainter, when the orange flashes behind her eyes suddenly ease to a calm black. She sighs, her expression relaxing without the glare to make her face scrunch up, and she braves twitching another eye open, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man soothing her with his voice.

"Castle?" she rasps, throat raw and scratchy as the sound breaks free, and just as she'd imagined, her partner stands there, beaming down at her with a watery smile as a halo of gold light shines through the blinds in an aura around him. "Hey."

He releases a watery chuckle, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the sweat slicked skin of her forehead, and she smiles at the contact, the heat of him warming through her skin. One of his hands strokes the skin of her cheek, dancing over the ridge of her cheekbone as he smiles adoringly at her, and she itches to reach out and touch him.

One of her hands twitches up, struggling to lift under the harsh pressure still weighing her down. She yearns to let the faint shadow of unshaved stubble scratch against her hands, the pads of her fingers travelling down the handsome profile of his nose. They've only had one night and a morning together, and she can't get enough of him.

"Hey, beautiful," he says softly, smiling against her warm skin, and the words make blood rush to her cheeks at the gentle conviction in his voice, memories overwhelming her of the last time they were uttered into the quiet of the night as he trailed his mouth down her bare stomach. "It's good to see you."

It hits her then that she's not in his bed. Actually, she's not in any bed that she recognises.

This one is stiff and uncomfortable, the thin sheets starch white and nothing like the sinfully cushioned comforters she nestled herself in over at his summer house. Her memory is hazy too, and she can't remember much after leaving him in the shower while she rushed off to the club.

"Where am I?" she asks, coughing to clear her throat when her voice continues to come out scratchy. "We're not at your house."

His eyes dim a little at the words, and it's then that she notices how tired he looks, how the dark smudges lining underneath his eyes in crescent moons speak of a sleepless night louder than his voice ever could. What happened to him?

"You're in the hospital, Beckett," he tells her, slumping down heavily in the chair beside her bed as he drags it closer to her. Picking up her right hand, he intertwines her fingers with his own as he tilts forward towards her. "Do you remember anything that happened yesterday?"

She blinks, still thrown off by the word ' _hospital'_ as her brain starts whirring, dozens of thoughts invading her headspace as she tries to make sense of the random flashes of images.

"I don't…" she trails off, brow furrowing in frustration and confusion. "I don't think I can. Castle, what am I doing in here?"

Sighing, he bows his head, pressing his mouth to the top of her hand. The movement makes her heart thump faster, louder, inside the hollow of her chest, and it's mostly from panic rather than the much more desirable arousal.

"Your cover was blown after a newspaper published an article about us after that gala the other night," he says sombrely, staring at her hand placed gently on the side of her bed and avoiding her gaze.

"Yeah, I remember that happening," she nods, pursing her lips in concentration. "Bruce cornered me at the club. I think he might have dosed me with something or…" her voice gives up when she sees Castle lift his head, staring into her with eyes burning with a dull sorrow that confirms her suspicions. "What was it? What did he give me, Castle?"

"He tried to give you a lethal dose of flunitrazepam mixed with alcohol and some kind of muscle relaxant, but you managed to fight him off before he could give you the whole thing," he explains, and she watches him intently, relying on him to fill in all the gaps for her. "It must have knocked you out because he smuggled you in to the basement at that hotel he owns and tried to get you to tell him where you were in the investigations, which, judging by the nasty black eye and bruised ribs, you refused to do."

She tilts her head in bleary confusion, and suddenly becomes aware of the heated pain just by her brow bone, which explains that. She's trying to focus on his words, but the exhaustion starts to cloud her brain again, making it difficult to concentrate.

"When we found you, the drug had started to peak and you couldn't move, so we brought you here so they could stabilize you."

She hums, the memories still extremely hazy, but she trusts his words enough to feel satisfied with that retelling, and the weights pulling at her lids have her eyes drifting shut again. Helpless to resist the stubborn call of rest, she grapples around weakly with her hand for a moment, breathing through the lingering spasms of prickling throughout her body, when Castle catches it in his.

"What about, Bruce?" she asks on a heavy exhale of breath, fingers curling around his hand. "Where is he?"

"In the hospital's secure ward under police guard," he tells her, and for the first time she hears a little bit of humour in his voice. "You did a number on him, Beckett."

"Did I kick his ass?" she says around a yawn, shifting the aching muscles in her shoulders so that she can bury down a little further into the pillows.

He chuckles, his thumb dancing over the sore ridges of her knuckles. Okay, so maybe she can feel one of those punches. "You certainly did."

"Good," she smiles sleepily, feeling the floating sensation begin to return, only softer now, as if it's calling her for sleep rather than the dark abyss she'd been trapped inside earlier. "Castle?"

"Yeah, Kate?"

"I'm glad you're here."

A kiss presses warmly against the blush staining her cheek, and she sighs contently at the slight itch of his stubble, the warm rush of breath against her skin.

"Sleep, Kate," he tells her, the soothing lullaby of his voice taking her deeper. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

A few hours later, she's conscious again, looking so wonderfully awake and coherent that he can't help but grin at the sight. She's still sore all over, bruises aching and her muscles weak from the drugs, but together they'd managed to shift her upright so that she's sitting up, propped against the pillows behind her.

All throughout the night he's stayed by her side, taking calls from Ryan and Esposito updating him on the case developments and chatting with the several nurses who came to check on her, but he's refused to leave her.

She's been drifting back to consciousness on and off during the hours past midnight, mumbling a few words to him now and again that he doubts she remembers now, and although he'd tried to keep her with him, she'd sink back every time.

He won't tell her how terrified he was that she wouldn't wake up next time.

Brushing away those thoughts, he watches her now as she settles back down from her trip to the bathroom, the nurse helping to situate her and checking all the monitors for her stats again.

"Will I be able to go home soon?" she asks, her voice still raw and somewhat scratchy, temporarily scarred by the tightening of her throat under the paralysis. He can hear the desperation lacing her words, the eagerness to get out of this unfamiliar and frankly unappealing place as soon as possible. "I feel okay now."

He knows that's a lie. She's still a little loopy from the drugs, and she can't quite walk without help yet, her muscles still trembling with the effort of movement. A disbelieving glance in her direction communicates that to her, and she glares at him, a wordless warning to keep his mouth shut.

"Well, we want to keep you in for tonight for observation," he watches her shoulders droop in disappointment, and his chest aches at the thought that she won't be able to come home with him tonight. He had so many plans for them now that they're together, and spending time in a hospital bed was definitely not one of them. "And because of the nature of the drug you were dosed with, and the situation you were unconscious in, we want to make sure we run a sexual assault kit to be sure."

His stomach drops straight down with a hideous pang that makes every muscle in his body freeze.

Beckett tenses beside him, her face paling even more than the sick white she already is. The nurse doesn't turn back to face them, just continuing to faff around with the progress sheet attached to the clipboard as if she hasn't just dropped the prospects of a devastating piece of information onto them.

" _What?"_ he asks, voice fierce as he pulls himself up and out of his chair to storm over to her. "She's fine, we know she's fine. You would have told us before if you thought otherwise."

The young nurse looks somewhat taken aback, glancing between them both as she stutters out an apology.

"I'm sorry, but we need the patient's consent to run the kit because it's an invasive examination," she explains, eyes flitting to Beckett, who's still sitting stiff and drawn and looking so, so small in the hospital bed. "She was knocked unconscious, with a drug that is notorious for being used in cases of sexual assault, so it would be highly recommended that a kit take place."

Oh fuck.

 _Holy fuck no._

If that bastard touched her-

"I've been sent to come and take you over for the examination now if you're agreeing to it. I'll wait outside and let the two of you talk for a moment."

He stares at the spot the where nurse was just standing until he hears the whoosh of the curtain being drawn shut again. It takes him a few moments to just breathe through the indescribable feeling clenching inside his stomach, suffocating his heart.

"Castle," he hears her voice merge between the loud rushing in his ears and the frantic panic of his heartbeat, barely a whisper, but he turns towards her. She's holding a hand up to him, arm shaking with the effort, and he rushes towards her, the spell breaking.

She looks terrified, which is honestly an emotion he doesn't associate with Kate Beckett. He clasps her hand tight in his own, drawing it to his chest as he slides in next to her on the bed, no longer caring for hospital regulations.

It just isn't fair. She's been through so much, and now this.

He wraps a strong arm around her, drawing her in tight as he rests his lips on top of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her to ease the clinical atmosphere surrounding them.

"I don't-" she starts, brow creasing as she clutches at the material of his shirt. "I mean, I don't think he did anything, but…"

"Kate," he tells her seriously, moving away slightly so her can watch her face as he says this to her. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it, alright? I'm not going anywhere, and I know you're strong enough to make it through this."

She swallows thickly, averting her eyes for a second before she glances back up at him, eyes shining.

"Okay," she nods, sucking in a deep breath, and he hears the nurse slip back in through the curtain. "But, I'm going to do it on my own."

"What?" he asks, panicking a little at the thought of leaving her alone while she goes through this. "Why, Beckett?"

"Well, one; I don't want to put you through that, and I'd rather do it alone," she starts, and when he opens his mouth to protest, she raises a hand to cut him off, sending him a pointed look. "And two, I think it'd be a good idea for you to call Alexis and distract yourself a little, okay?"

He watches her for a long moment, eyes scanning over the slight crease of nervousness in the downwards curve of her mouth, the pinch to her eye that gives away the anxiety she's no doubt feeling right now. He'd do anything to take it away from her.

"Are you ready?"

They turn in unison to face the voice of the waiting nurse, ready with a wheelchair to take Beckett to the examination room. Without him.

"Uh, yeah," she says quietly from next to him, slowly releasing his shirt from the grip of her fingers and brushing a curled strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's go."

He spans his hand wide against her back, circling his fingers over the ridges of her spine soothingly as the nurse wheels the chair closer to help her get in. Giving her the dignity of pushing up from the bed herself, he only steadies her slightly with the hand lightly touching her back as she gets herself seated, and he watches proudly as she pulls herself up to sit taller in the wheelchair.

"Now, I just need to ask you this before we go," the nurse, who he can now see is wearing a name tag reading 'Jessica', says as she picks up Kate's clipboard, pulling out a pen. "Have you knowingly had intercourse with anyone in the past couple of days?"

The devilish smirk she sends him at the question has him stumbling to grab on to the edge of the bed, pleasantly shocked at the return of the flirty Beckett he'd become well acquainted with the other night.

"Well," she bites her lip, staring directly at him as she lowers her eyelashes. God, she's going to kill him. "If four rounds with him the other night is anything to go by, then definitely."

* * *

"Dad, _please."_

"Pumpkin, you shouldn't have to worry about all this. You should be spending the last few weeks of summer with your friends."

"Detective Beckett is hurt, Dad," his daughter's voice pleads in his ear, and he can picture the exact expression she must be pulling; pouting lips and an adorable little crease between the space of her brows. "I'm worried about you, and besides, Grams and I were planning to come up next week anyway."

He rubs a hand to his temple, slumping backwards in the seat he's claimed as his own for the past twenty four hours or so, standing guard at Beckett's bedside. She's not even in it at the moment, off having who knows what done to her as they examine her for signs of… _assault._

Dear God he hopes there isn't any. He prays to whatever higher deities he doesn't even believe in that the only DNA they find is his, and that Bruce didn't place his dirty hands on her.

He's already blackened her eyes and torn at her skin, numbed her muscles so she couldn't even move. If that bastard has violated her in any way, he swears he'll storm upstairs, shove the guards out of the way and kill him himself.

"Dad?" the sweet prompting of his daughter's voice draws him out of the darkness, into the waiting arms of her innocent presence, one he doesn't want to tarnish.

"Sweetheart," he sighs, closing his eyes against the pain aching low in his chest. "I just don't know if it's a good idea right now."

"Daddy, please," she whimpers, and he finds himself sitting up straight in the chair at the sound of his little girl's distress. "I miss you."

His shoulders sag under the weight of those words, the air leaving his lungs.

Throughout all of this, he's not even considered the idea Alexis might miss him. She's been having such an amazing time with her new friends, and what he's begrudgingly come to realise, her new found freedom and independence. For the past few weeks it's seemed as though she's been the one comforting him, and it never crossed his mind that she's missed him just as much.

It makes his heart fracture just that little bit more.

"Oh, pumpkin," he sighs, chest aching with the need to see his little girl again. But he doesn't know if the case is fully resolved yet, and he doesn't want her exposed to that kind of thing. "I know, I miss you too. But I need you and Grams to know that things might not be fully sorted through here yet, and if that's the case, I'm not going to want you around it."

"I know, I know, Dad," she replies, an eager desperation resounding in her voice that makes him helpless to say no too. "I'll just stay by the house, I promise."

"And, you know Beckett will be there too, right?"

Okay, so he isn't actually one hundred percent certain about that, but it can't hurt to hope so.

"Yes, of course," she says, and he can just imagine her bobbing her head enthusiastically in response, tendrils of brilliant orange bouncing around her face. "We can help her relax and find fun stuff to do."

His heart warms from the inside out with pride for the incredible girl he's somehow managed to raise with all his own issues, and he finds himself smiling, no longer as haunted by the lingering darkness of what Kate's going through right now.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that would be great."

"So we can come up?"

He inhales deeply through his nose, sucking in the air and filling his lungs as he tries to sort through the best possible outcome for this situation. Alexis sounds determined enough to just get his mother to drive them up here, arrive unexpectedly even without his permission, so there only seems to be one possible outcome.

"Alright, you come up here when you're ready," he tells her, not being able to resist a smile at the cheer she lets out on the other side of the line. "Just let me know first, alright? And maybe bring up a few things we might need."

"Thank you, Dad," she gushes, her voice signing though to him. "Tell Beckett that I hope she feels better, and I'll see you soon."

"I will," he says, leaning back against the cushion of the chair as he nods. "I love you, pumpkin."

"Love you too, Dad."

Reluctantly, he hangs up the phone, and stares down in his lap at the device held flat on his palm.

Is this a good idea? Will it help having his daughter here by his side again, or will it just complicate things further?

And also, he has no idea if Beckett's going to be comfortable with this. He wants her to stay with him, but she might not want to be around his well-meaning daughter and overbearing mother.

He groans out loud, flopping himself back to slouch against the chair and raising his arms so his hands cover his eyes, giving him a blissful moment of stillness to just push everything away from his mind.

His spontaneous meditation session is interrupted however by the _whooshing_ sound of the curtain being undrawn, and he sits himself back up straight. Beckett comes slinking inside, looking pale and uncharacteristically fragile as Jessica leads her in with a steady hand to her arm.

Standing up, he shoves his phone back in his pocket as he rushes over to take her arms, lifting both hands up in surrender as she bats his attempts of support away. He isn't offended - just weirdly amused by the glimpses of Beckett that keep seeping through this drug hazed shadow of her, no less strong, of course, but just a little haunted right now.

Beckett manages to situate herself back on the bed with relative ease, and he feels his stomach ripple with excitement at seeing her muscle strength regenerate so quickly. The hopeful sensation pulsing through him soon fades however when the nurse informs them she'll be back with Beckett's results as soon as possible, and the awful reality of what just happened dawns back on him.

When he notices Kate shuffling slightly to the left side of the bed, watching him meaningfully with sorrowful eyes, her mouth tight as though she's trying to put on a brave face, he doesn't take a second to hesitate. He clambers on the bed beside her, reaching one arm around her shoulders to bring her closer towards him how that he's settled. She comes willingly, slumping against him like a ragdoll as she loops an arm over his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

They sit in silence for a short while, him hesitant to interrupt the self-soothing she seems to be doing, her now functioning fingers dancing across his chest as she plays music along his ribcage. He waits her out, allowing her to take the lead in a situation he's very aware he needs to handle with extreme care.

"That was awful," he feels her suck in a breath, her chest expanding under his hand as she mumbles the admission into his shirt, and his insides twist in discomfort.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers against her hair, the acute twinge of guilt pounding through him at this entire situation. "I wish I could have done something or prevented the stupid paparazzi photo in the first place. If it wasn't for me none of this would've-"

"No, Castle," she squeezes his side, nudging her nose up into the crease of his neck. "None of this is your fault, okay? You have nothing to be sorry for."

He closes his eyes against the surge of emotions fogging up his insides right now, polluting his mind with guilt and grief, even though she's right here with him now.

"I just wish I could help."

"You are," she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the thundering beat of his pulse point, and he sighs, her touch melting him slightly as he softens against her. "Just being here now, and promising you'll still be here no matter what happens. Being my partner. That's all I need, Castle."

"I'm always going to be here," he tells her, making sure she understands the honesty of his words. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Beckett."

"Hmm." She sounds a lot more content now as her hand skims up to curl around the material covering his heart. "No more leaving."

"Never," he says, voice full of conviction. He's made this mistake before, and he refuses to do it again. "You're stuck with me now."

"Good," he feels the stretch of her smile warming against the tender skin of his neck. "Because I'm the one with a gun, and you don't really have a choice in that matter."

A laugh startles out of him, and he pulls away to brush a soft kiss to her forehead, overcome with adoration for this extraordinary woman who against all odds appears to have chosen him.

* * *

"Okay, I'm sorry, but there is no way that this resembles anything that could possibly be a mouse."

"What? No way, Beckett. Look at its ears."

"It looks like an elephant."

His jaw drops open, and he shoves the screen of his phone in front of Beckett's face where she's still sitting beside him, snuggled down in the bed sheets and resting her head by his arm as they continue to duel in their rather heated game of 'Draw Something'.

He'd wanted to ease the tension lingering within their little sanctuary behind the curtain, find a way to lessen the anxiety practically vibrating off her while they wait for the results from her earlier examination. So, he'd introduced Detective Beckett to the wonderful world of android phone games, showing her how to download an app on her own phone so they could play Pictionary together. And so far, it seems to be working.

Well, it would be if she stopped insulting his obviously masterful illustrations anyway.

"Look at this," he says, motioning towards the admittedly poorly drawn mouse on the screen, but he won't give in. "What planet are you living on where elephants look like this. I drew its tail and everything, see?"

She squints her eyes to see better, staring intently at his screen before her mouth twists.

"That's its tail?" she asks in disbelief. "I thought it was a trunk."

His face drops to a glare, but she just laughs at him, curling a hand at his thigh as she grins up towards him. It makes him calmer, seeing her looking relaxed like this, even seemingly having a little fun while holed up in the hospital, and he's just glad he can help to make things easier right now.

She leans back further against his thigh, dropping her phone to the mattress with a soft bounce as she lifts her hand up, still weak and trembling slightly as she grazes her fingers against the still stubble-rough skin of his chin. He really needs to shave. And change his clothes. And shower.

Her eyes are bright as she gazes up at him, the drug hazed cloudiness finally having cleared to reveal what he might dare to call adoration as she watches him. It makes him want to kiss her; to snag her hand in his and soothe her still swollen knuckles as he leans down and takes her mouth, just soft and sweet enough to reassure himself she's really here.

One night will never be enough for them. He's sure of that.

He's never going to get enough of her.

Returning her smile, he finds himself helpless against the allure of her as he begins to leans down despite the awkward angle, watching as her lashes flitter shut in anticipation and her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink that floods her pale face with colour again. The hand she was using to explore his skin wraps around the back of his neck loosely, easing him down to her gently, when the curtain is swung open.

A doctor stands there, outfitted in a white coat with a pocket protector and a clipboard as she steps inside, drawing the curtains shut behind her. The two of the flinch at the unexpected intrusion, and he straightens himself back up, helping her to sit up a little with a hand supporting her back.

The middle aged woman gives them a pointed look in reference to their frowned upon position sharing the hospital bed, but thankfully doesn't say anything as she approaches them.

He knows she must have the results, Jessica or one of the other nurses on duty would be here otherwise, and his hand grapples at the sheets in search of his partner's. The tight squeeze she constricts around his fingers is the only indicator of how on edge she is, her face belying any nerves she's feeling with the stoic mask she's fitted in the presence of this doctor.

"Okay, Kate," she starts, flicking through the notes on her clipboard as her voice remains neutral, impassive in a way doctors must be to deliver difficult information. It makes his chest clench. "I'm Doctor Rosenberg, and I have the results of your SART kit here that was recommended after you were dosed with flunitrazepam while being taken hostage, is that correct?"

"That's correct." Her voice is strong, unwavering in steel, and he clasps her hand tighter as he trains his eyes on the woman before him.

"Well, I'm pleased to say that the results were in fact, negative, with no evidence of sexual assault, or activity other than your boyfriend there."

The sense of relief that floods his system at the words overwhelms him, and his chest empties itself of his held breaths in a heavy exhale that has him wrapping his arms around his partner, who sucks in a gasp next to him.

"Thank you," she nods, sounding a little more chocked up this time, but no one dares to mention it. "Does that mean I can go home soon?"

"Well, we were going to keep you in for prolonged observation just to be safe," Doctor Rosenberg starts, but he's too elated by the previous announcement to be disappointed. "But, seeing as you have a significant other whom I assume you're staying with, as long as he keeps a close eye on you for issues or changes, you might be okay to leave in the morning."

Beckett turns to glance at him, biting her lip around a shy smile, and he suddenly registers that this woman has been referring to them as 'significant others.'

Well, it's pretty much true.

"Yeah, we've got that covered," he tells the doctor, grinning as he squeezes Beckett's shoulders. "Thank you so much."

With one last smile and a short nod, Doctor Rosenberg leaves them alone, wrapped up in a tangle of limbs on the too small hospital bed.

It's only once they're alone that he notices Beckett's shoulders quivering slightly under his arm.

"Beckett?" he leans down closer to her, nudging her head with his as he hears a watery sniff hidden underneath the curtain of her hair. "Oh, Kate."

He pulls her into him, and she loops her arms around his neck again, clutching at the material of his shirt as he presses himself down to meet her. They don't talk, and just take a while to finally let the emotions flow out of them, drawing strength from one another as they bathe in a moment of weakness.

The light kisses she's pressing to his neck make him shudder out a shaky sigh, and it's only then that he realises his own eyes are leaking slightly. But, even if they are crying and allowing the utter ridiculousness of the past twenty-four hours to crash over them, he can finally hold her in his arms and know with a certainty that everything is going to be fine.

* * *

 _A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and once again thank you so much for the continued support for this story. I appreciate it more than you know and reading your lovely comments always puts a smile on my face._

 _Thank you for reading!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

* * *

Taking a steady step out of Castle's car, she waves away the hand he's offering her as she finds her feet on the hard crunch of gravel beneath her ballet flats. She's still feeling a little tired and her muscles might take a couple more days to regain their full strength after the sedative paralysed her movement, but otherwise she's pretty sure she's back to normal.

So now she's here, bathed by the embrace of the warm morning sun, with Castle at her side as they walk up the porch steps and through his front door.

Memories overwhelm her senses the moment she steps inside, brain flooded with the sight and smell of everything that happened the last time she was here. The stroke of his hand dancing delicately across her thighs, the silk of hair at the nape of his neck tangling around her fingers, and the soothing smell that she's always associated with him, amplified by arousal.

It makes her long for a scenario where her cover hadn't been blown, or there was never a cover to begin with, a life where they could spend the day alternating between his bed and the couch downstairs, lazing about and just enjoying one another's company with the added benefit of finally being able to enjoy each other's bodies.

But then again, without this cover, they probably wouldn't be here at all.

Maybe she'd still be sitting at her desk in the precinct, a pile of paperwork spread in an array around her, drowning in work while her coffee cup sits empty beside her. Maybe he'd still be out here trying to move on from the fragile connection they'd made back then, both too stubborn and secretly terrified to admit the truth to themselves or each other.

She might have found someone else, someone who could help her forget about the gaping hole in her chest for a while, and he'd return in the fall with his ex-wife still on his arm, not being able to resist finding out the story as they both develop a new rhythm in their partnership.

Yes, maybe it would have worked out like that, but she can't help but think that whatever has lingered between them, an invisible tie of unwanted affection and attraction, would have one day snapped them together. It was always going to be inevitable between them.

His hand, warm and firm against her back draws her out of her musings, leading her toward the kitchen diner, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the stools while he heads to the fridge. She pulls herself up with relative ease, feeling her muscles getting stronger, regaining energy through every movement, and watches him as he pulls down some bowls from the cupboards, reaching out for the fruit bowl with his other hand.

"You feeling up for eating breakfast?" he asks, not turning around as he engrosses himself in chopping up the plump red strawberries he's collected from the fridge. Her stomach rumbles, whining loudly at the sight. "Well, I think that's a good enough answer."

He grins over his shoulder towards her, and her shoulders come up to bracket her chin, beaming at him in amusement as she lowers her teeth to sink gently into her bottom lip. Even from this distance, she can tell that his eyes have darkened in reaction to her movement. The last time he'd looked at her like that, he'd been pressing her naked body up against the startlingly cold tile of the shower with his own as he sank his lips to her neck.

"Feed me, Castle," she tilts her head at him teasingly, lowering her chin to the palm of her hand as she watches him potter about his kitchen.

Her jaw still aches though, battered from a particularly harsh swing Bruce must have knocked against her face during some point that night, and she releases he light hold on her lips. It's strange, that she can't remember what happened during the time she was drugged. In some sense, that's probably better, but the detective within her wishes she could piece the fragmented jigsaw pieces into a coherent pattern.

"Patience, Beckett," he chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel and dragging the toaster over to pop several pieces of bread inside, and the simple display of domesticity makes her insides warm with longing. "Just wait a little longer, and you'll have your food. And, if you're feeling really patient, maybe you can have dessert."

She sucks in a breath, ribs aching at the effort, and she watches him intently as he carries on, oblivious.

This is something they actually do now.

Wow.

She hides her no doubt glowing cheeks in her palm, watching her partner as he moves around the kitchen, chopping fruit up into bowls and pouring juice. She almost feels as though she should help, but at the same time, she just wants to take a few moments to observe him. So she watches the way his shoulders move, rolling underneath the taut material over his back, lets her gaze travel down to the curve of his ass in those jeans she just wants to-

"Kate?" Her head snaps up to see him twisting around at the waist, eyes crinkling in amusement as he smirks at her. "Enjoying yourself there?"

The teasing tilt of his lips, the ruffled strands of his hair and the dusting of stubble still brushing his chin all make the burn of arousal start to flare deep within her. She knows his family are coming later, and while she's actually excited to see them, it means they only have a little while left to themselves.

"I am," she lowers her lashes, her voice kind of husky even to her own ears. Wow, maybe she's further gone than she thought. "But I'd enjoy it more if you come over here."

The knife in his hands goes clattering to the counter as he drops it, hands fumbling in response to her words. He spins to face her, the strain creasing his brows looking as though he's physically holding himself back from just rushing over and _taking_ her.

Oh… she kind of wants him to do that.

"Kate, you've just been discharged from the hospital," he starts, sounding as though he's trying to convince himself as well as her.

"So?" she asks, unable to see the problem in that statement, her need for him clouding her better judgement.

" _So,_ that means it's probably not a good idea to rush things right now," he tells her softly, hands clenching at his sides. "You might not be strong enough yet, and I don't want to hinder your recovery because I can't control myself."

She sags down on the stool in disappointment, cursing Bruce once again for ruining her plans for celebrating her and Castle's new relationship.

Because, that's what it is, right?

"Maybe you're right," she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, clad in only and oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings the boys had brought in for her. "Which is annoying enough in itself, really."

He chuckles, and it reassures her somewhat when she can make out the lingering rumble of want beneath the smooth layer of his voice. Not that she isn't convinced he wants her, of course not, he set any doubt of that to rest the other night, but tangible evidence of just how much gives her pleasant tingles all over.

She concedes to continue sitting and observing him, trying to stem the rising need inside of her, the one that sends messages to her brain telling her to stand up, charge on over to him and climb him like an animal. But somehow she manages to control herself, crossing her legs and squeezing underneath the cover of the counter.

It's not long before he presents her with a plate of toast with a selection of jams at the side, and a bowl of summer fruits slathered with yogurt. After a day spent starving on nothing but hospital food, the refreshing meal in front of her is just perfect.

Castle moves to the seat beside her as she takes a sizeable bite out of the toast, savouring the delicious bursts of flavour on her tongue from the jam, before she turns to him with a request on her tongue.

"Will you be able to take me to the Hamptons PD's precinct after this?"

His brows furrow in confusion as he pops a blueberry in his mouth, tilting his head a little.

"Why do you need to go there?"

"Ryan and Espo have been down there all night," she explains, dragging the torn off piece of toast through the trail of conserves spreading across her plate. "I need to give them my statement anyway, well… what I remember of it, and so I may as well get caught up on what's going on while I'm at it."

"Beckett," he sighs, placing his spoon down for a moment to turn towards her. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I've rested enough these past few days," she tells him, indignation flaring up inside of her. "I want to know what's going on. I want to know if that bastard has a rock solid case built against him that'll keep him locked up for good."

He watches her for a long moment, and she finds herself tempted to reach up and wipe away the trail of sticky crumbs she can feel staining her lips and around her mouth, until his eyes soften, and warm smile stretching over his lips.

"You're pretty extraordinary, you know?"

She blinks, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his statement, how she feels as though he's the one being vulnerable here, despite the bombshell of a compliment, so very reminiscent of last year that it makes her heart pump faster, that he's just given to her. A gift in the palm of his hand, his heart hers for the taking.

Shifting herself to the edge of the stool, she leans towards him, tilting her head for better access to press a soft kiss to his lips, sweet in more ways than one.

"You taste like strawberries," he murmurs around her mouth, and she hums happily, reaching out to cup his cheek tenderly and stroke it with her thumb.

"Mm, I know," she pulls away slightly, fluttering her lids back open to grin up at him, his eyes dazzling down like pools of water towards her. "But, what you call 'extraordinary' is just my job, Castle."

"You know that's not only what I meant," he quirks a challenging eyebrow at her, and she purses her lips in amusement. "Like, that thing you did the other night with your mouth? Now _that_ was pretty extraordinary-"

She shoves at him, shaking her head around a laugh, and he grins at her, steadying himself on the stool as he reaches for another spoonful of yoghurt and fruit.

"You're my partner, Castle," she tells him, more serious now, because she wants him to understand this. "You make me better."

* * *

It's strange, being in another jurisdiction's precinct.

The setting is different, chilled beaches and green planes of grass rather than a forest of surrounding skyscrapers and yellow taxi cabs, and the inside is a lot more rural, and definitely smaller. She hadn't been allowed here during the time her cover was active, not wanting to risk anyone spotting her here cooperating with the police department, but now their killer is in cuffs, she allows herself the pride of walking in their as a successful asset to this station.

Chief Grover greets her with a gruff nod when she and Castle stroll over to him, the two of them eager to know what's happening in terms of the case right now.

"Your buddies are over there," he tells them, motioning through to one of the conference rooms with blinds pulled shut. "They're waiting for you both."

Thanking him, the swiftly turn to walk away, when the chief clears his throat meaningfully, drawing them to a stop. She turns to him in askance, almost wincing at the anticipation of some kind of scolding, but he surprises her.

"Detective Beckett," he coughs. "Thank you for all of your help on this investigation. I apologise for the danger it caused you and we are all extremely glad that you're doing well."

She doesn't need to glance over to Castle beside her to know his expression must be matching the surprise on her own face, her jaw dropping open without her consent as she tries to compose herself.

"I, uh," she stutters, pulling herself up to stand a little straighter. She's still wearing her loose shirt and leggings, one of her sleeves sliding off her shoulder, but she won't let her state of dress deter her. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad I was able to be of help."

They all stand watching one another in awkward silence for a few long moments, before Chief Grover bobs his head, tugging up his pants by the belt buckle before he turns and heads in the opposite direction without another glance.

She and Castle turn to face each other, her pleasant surprise mirrored by him, before they both choke out their laughter and she grips hold of his shirt sleeve.

"Oh, God," she gasps, breath leaving her for a moment. "That was unexpected."

"That was so awkward for him," Castle chuckles, moving his palm to the small of her back to urge her forwards gently. "I didn't realise he could show empathy."

She grins at him, pushing open the door to the conference room where the boys are shuffling through papers inside.

"Beckett," Ryan pushes himself up from his seat, rushing over to her. "It's great to see you up and about again."

He envelopes her in a hug, and she squeezes him in reassurance, knowing from experience how awful it is when one of them gets hurt and the others are left to continue to the work, removing themselves from emotional involvement in the situation.

Once he releases her, Esposito does the same, patting her on the back with a hug before he pulls away with a relived grin.

"How're you feeling, girl?"

She rolls her eyes at them good naturedly, moving past them to take a seat at the head of the table, leaning forward to glance at the paperwork before them.

"I'm okay now, guys," she tells them, motioning to the files before them. "So can we just get this done and lock the son of a bitch away?"

Castle takes a seat beside her, the heat of him reassuring against her thigh as the guys reclaim their spaces opposite, and she rests her elbows on the table to get down to business.

"Oh he's going away, Beckett," Esposito tells her, his voice dark with thinly veiled rage. Sometimes she forgets how much the boys care about her. But then she'd be exactly the same if it were one of them. "Kidnapping and attempted murder of a cop, using the same M.O. as the killer of the last three women? This is going to be a slam dunk for the D.A."

A weight she hadn't even realised has been pressing down on her suddenly lifts, making her feel as though she's floating with the sensation of lightness, the reassurance that he is in fact going away finally registering in her head.

"And he's in custody now?"

"Well," Ryan begins, giving her a sly look. "Protective custody under armed guard in the hospital at the moment. You gave him a real battering, Beckett."

"See?" Castle nudges her with a grin, and she rolls her eyes at them again, feeling suspiciously like she's going to strain them if this carries on, and huffs out a laugh. "I told you. You're a badass even when you have no idea what you're doing."

" _Anyway,"_ she draws the word out, eager to get things back on track and sort her statement out as soon as possible. "Seeing as I can't remember much, will my statement still be used as evidence against him?"

"Well whatever you remember will definitely help," Espo nods, sliding a piece of paper, what looks like a blank witness statement over. "But the evidence left at the scene and your injuries should be enough to fill in the blanks."

"I can remember what happened before I passed out the first time," she creases her brows in thought, staring intently at her hands on top of the table as the fragmented thoughts of that day coming floating back to her, slowly fitting together in a pattern she can tell them. "After he showed me the newspaper with the article, the one with Castle and me…"

She trails off at the smug looks the detectives are giving her, and she promptly glares at them, ignoring Castle's proud little grin besides her as he puffs his chest out.

" _So,"_ she continues pointedly. "That's when he grabbed me and forced the drink down my throat, but I managed to push him off before I could drink it all."

Her partner goes stiff next to her, the muscle in his thigh tensing, and she rests a reassuring hand on top of it while she carries on. The boys look a little uneasy too, and it's then that she remembers being told that the full dosage would have killed her eventually.

Probably best not to dwell on that.

"I don't remember everything else all that clearly if I'm honest."

Espo waves her off, pausing his frantic scrawling of her recollection for a moment.

"It's alright," he says, scanning over the words he's already written. "We'll ask questions about stuff that might be useful, and if you can remember, that's great, but if you don't it's not a problem. This is just extra info for the prosecution."

She nods her head once, setting her jaw in determination, and she notices Castle's hand lie gently on top of hers.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

He's just shutting the car door behind Beckett, reaching inside his pockets to find the key, when the front door of his summer house is thrown open, a streak of read barrelling down the steps as his daughter launches herself at him.

" _Alexis?"_ he gasps, his arms coming to wrap around the fragile frame of the redhead as she clings to him, burying her face in his neck. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

Over Alexis's sweep of red hair, he can see Beckett standing strong behind her, arms folded over her chest as she smiles at him, biting her lip as her eyes crinkle. At least she doesn't seem unpleasantly shocked by this little surprise, because although he knew they were coming, he didn't think it would be quite so soon.

"We just couldn't wait any longer to see you, Dad," she mumbles against his shirt, and he rubs at her back soothingly, watching his mother come gracing down the steps of the porch to join them all in the afternoon sunshine beating down from above. "And we wanted to know if Detective Beckett is okay."

His partner's brows raises slightly in surprise, seemingly taken aback by the care his daughter exhibits towards the woman he knows she looks up to. But thankfully Beckett doesn't freak out and instead just takes a small step closer, holding his gaze until he gives her a little nod of encouragement.

"I'm fine now, Alexis," she tells his girl soothingly, and he releases one arm for her to spin around and see the smiling and much healthier looking detective before her, her hand still fisting his shirt in a bunch. "But I hope you don't mind me staying here with you, your Dad and your Gram for a couple of weeks."

His mother reaches them then, opening her arms to welcome Beckett with a hug that she happily returns.

"Oh, Darling," she coos, pulling away a little to talk, squeezing Beckett's forearms. "It's so wonderful to see you, especially now you're up and about again.

Swallowing her in another embrace, his mother hugs Beckett tightly, and for a moment he's tempted to pull her away, not wanting her to frighten away his partner… _girlfriend?_ with her overbearing shows of affection. But, much to his surprise, he notices Beckett close her eyes as her arms hug the older woman back to her, looking so blissfully peaceful for a moment that it pulls his breath away.

When was the last time she'd received a hug from a mother?

It may have actually been his mother last time, wrapping her up in a farewell hug once she found a new place to stay and packed up to leave the loft, or even before that, when she'd come to confess that she wants to find her own mother's killer, and she'd let her maternal instincts wash over her as she greeted the grieving detective with a hug.

It breaks his heart more than a little, and he finds himself tugging Alexis closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of comfort his little girl carries around with her.

"And yes, of course," his mother continues, finally releasing Beckett and striding on over to him. "You simply must stay with us."

"Yeah, we'll go swimming and have campfires and stuff," Alexis chimes in, sliding away a little to allow her Grams to kiss him on the cheek in greeting. "It'll be so much fun, Dad tells the best ghost stories while we're eating s'mores."

He lets Alexis carry on as she gushes about her excitement to Beckett, and returns his mother's embrace as she fixes him with a knowing look that makes his stomach drop three floors.

"So, Kiddo," she begins, speaking low enough for only him to hear as she chuckles teasingly at him. "I'm going to assume there's a little more going on than just 'undercover' work between you two now?"

He sighs heavily, allowing his head to hang in annoyance. How does everyone seem to be able to tell they're together after one night? If she's still glowing from that he's certainly not going to complain, but people knowing what he and Beckett are going to be doing during every spare moment makes him cringe, his nerve endings quivering in distaste.

"Yes, Mother," he rolls his eyes pointedly, ensuring he's keeping his voice out of hearing range for Beckett and Alexis. No one else should have to endure a conversation as awkward as this. "But can we keep it quiet, please? We don't even know what's going on yet."

His mother gives him a careful once over, before she hums, turning to walk away towards the girls.

"How about we all get inside now then," she claps her hands, the sheer shawl draped over her shoulders bouncing at the movement. "Get started on dinner and then find some fun things to do tonight."

Beckett moves to follow her inside, but instead she turns to him, reaching a hand out for him to hold as they both follow his two red-heads inside, bracing themselves to endure Martha Rodger's cooking skills.

"Sounds great, Mother."

* * *

The embers of the campfire he's finally managed to get going glow bright in the dim fog of dusk settling over them, the temperature cooling as the sky changes from a brilliant blue to a spectrum of oranges and pinks, the sun slowly descending towards the water of the surrounding estuary.

He leans back on the wooden deck chair he's dragged out here, smiling to himself as he watches his daughter laugh with Beckett, swapping stories as they toast a marshmallow each. They've been chatting non-stop since Alexis and his mother arrived, with the girl eagerly discussing school life and asking how 'cool it was' being undercover. If it weren't for the fact Beckett was so eager to indulge her curiosity and the fragile friendship that has built itself beyond the hero-worship acquaintance they'd had before, he'd be annoyed at the lack of alone time with his new…

His new what, exactly?

Shaking his head free of thoughts, he tries to reclaim the pleasant contentment that has curled itself around him as the warmth of the fire tickles him skin, the edges of grass brushing across the bare pads of his feet.

His mother sits beside him, nursing a glass of red wine from a bottle she's had stashed up here and couldn't wait to get her hands on, and when he glances towards her, he sees the knowing smile she's wearing and immediately averts his eyes.

He refuses to let his mother embarrass him in front of a girl _now._

Instead, he busies himself with his own marshmallow, hovering over the flames as it heats to toasty perfection, and he lifts it up, sliding it off the stick with little regard for his fingers. The instant flare on the tips have him yelping, and the three women around him laugh, a beautiful harmony of joyful voices that he no longer cares came at his expense.

Kate catches his eye, her smile soft and glowing through the thin wave of smoke rising between them. She tilts her head, sending her loose waves of hair down to fall on one shoulder, and he grins at her, trying to convey the happiness he's feeling in that one gesture.

They hold one another's gazes for a long moment, before Alexis nudges Beckett, pointing to the roasting marshmallow threatening to smoke that she's wavering over the fire. Eyes widening, the detective quickly refocuses her attention on saving the key ingredient for her s'more, and he watches in amusement as she mirrors his actions of placing them between the graham crackers they all have in a waiting pile beside them. Waiting for the chocolate to melt, he takes a slow bite, savouring the rich taste of chocolatey sweetness that explodes on his taste buds.

Beckett appears to be enjoying her own s'more just as much, her eyes closed in what he now knows with a certainty is an expression of pure bliss, and the sinful moan of delight that travels to him has him jolting up a little straighter in his chair. The movement smudges melted chocolate over the side of his mouth, and he stretches his tongue out to clean it up, with little success.

"A little further down, Castle," Beckett laughs softly, motioning with her own hand to her lips, and he follows her instruction, leaning closer towards her. "Yeah, that's it."

"Do I got it?" he asks, well aware his tongue is sticking out and he looks ridiculous, but if it's amusing his ladies? He doesn't care.

"Uh," she says, her face twisting in amusement as Alexis holds a hand over her lips as she laughs with a mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate. "Yeah, sure. That'll do it."

Nodding, he relaxes back into his chair, reaching for another marshmallow to hold over the fire as Beckett and Alexis start discussing colleges, and he tries to drown it out, not yet able to hear his baby bird talking about flying the nest he built for her.

"You okay there, kiddo?"

He turns slightly to give his mother his attention, watching as her gaze slips to the girls sitting opposite them, before quickly flicking back to him. The low croon of guitar strings thrumming around them from the playlist he's set up on his phone drowns out the conversation, and he leans closer towards his mother.

"I'm fine," he nods, pulling his lips up as proof. "What about you, Mother? Ready to cut yourself off yet?"

In response to his teasing nod towards her half empty glass, his mother waves him off, the rings decorating her fingers tapping against the glass she's holding with her other hand.

"Oh, _Richard,"_ she stresses, shaking her head around a sigh. "Are you really going to sit here all night staring at her in a way that says more about your feelings than your words ever have?"

He startles, eyes widening as he looks over to Kate in panic, but she's thankfully still engrossed in the whispered conversation she's having with his daughter.

"Mother," he hisses, heat rate picking up a little to a steady thump inside his chest. "You need to keep your voice down, and your nose _out."_

"Darling, please," she chuckles, placing her hand on top of his as the ageing lines of wisdom stroke against his skin. "Whatever it is that you're uncertain about, and before you argue I can tell there _is."_ He shuts his mouth, clamping down on the protest he was about to throw out. "Talk to her, and just be honest."

He bows his head, sighing as he moves his blackening marshmallow out of the assault of flames, placing it carefully to the side.

"I don't want to scare her," he murmurs, his voice quiet even in the soft flicker of flame dancing before them.

His mother's grip tightens slightly on his hand, and he glances back to see her shaking her head with a smile, wine glass abandoned on the side table next to her.

"Whatever it is you want to say, I know it won't."

"How could you possibly know that?" he scoffs, trying to shake off the nerves with his useful mask of bravado.

"Because, Darling," she carries on, voice serious enough this time that he can't draw his attention away from her. "I see the way she looks at you."

His breath leaves him on a hurried _whoosh,_ and he slumps back against the hard wood behind him. He distantly hears his mother standing up from her seat, calling to Alexis to come inside with her for a minute, leaving him and Beckett alone for the first time since this morning.

The sun is skimming the water behind her head now, the halo of gold lighting up around her hair and bathing her in ethereal light as she busies herself with wiping her hands clean of the sticky melted chocolate, and he suddenly has an idea.

Pulling himself up, he rounds the now slowly dying fire, coming over to where she's sitting, and offers her his hand.

She gazes up at him, her irises reflecting the gold haze of flames as she cocks her head in confusion, motioning to his outstretched arm.

"Let's go and watch the sunset," he tells her, and the way her face lights up makes his blood rush. "Like last time, only now we don't have to worry about melting ice creams."

She chuckles lightly at the reminder of an event that happened only a few weeks ago, and she places her hand warmly in his, allowing him to pull her up and lead her across the lawn to the stone steps at the edge of his backyard. The speckling of sand that litters the ground itches at his feet, the small rocks jagged against the bare soles, and he sighs in relief when they reach the warm softness beneath them, in between their toes, as they walk across the stretch of beach to the water front.

Beckett leads him along the shoreline, clutching his hand tightly as they stroll in silence, letting the lazy roll of waves and gentle breeze airing their skin be the only sounds for a while.

He draws them to a stop not long after though, squeezing her hand as he pulls her back to him. She comes willingly, using the momentum to let herself be drawn in close, a gorgeous smile gracing her face that literally lights up with the gold streaks from the setting sun, gorgeous even with the bruises.

"Beckett," he starts, clearing his throat a little as he shuffles his bare feet in the mound of sand he's standing on. She's not wearing shoes either, and he finds himself enamoured by their natural height difference. "I know we haven't had much time to…talk since the other night, what with everything going on with the case and you ending up in the hospital."

"Well, to be fair, I don't think we'd have been doing much _talking_ if that hadn't happened either."

He blinks in surprise at her interruption, glancing down to see the cheeky purse of her lips she's sending him, the way one of her eyebrows has quirked up, almost daring him to deny it. Of course he won't though. He's just as aware as she is that the two of them left alone without interruptions would involve little talking and _a lot_ of moving. So she may have a point.

" _Anyway,_ " he fights a smile, sliding his thumb over her wrist bone, circling the knob rhythmically as he fights his way through this. "My point, before you so kindly interrupted me, was that we never really had a chance to figure out what this is for both of us, and what's going to happen once the summer's over and we head back to New York"

Taking a step closer, she bumps her hip gently against his side. "Sorry about that. I was a little busy being drugged."

The laugh he huffs out is half humour and half desperation, almost not able to believe that she can already make light of all this.

"But…you know where I'm going with this, right?" he asks her hesitantly, slightly terrified that he's going to scare her off and cause her to retreat back into her shell, walled off in a tower away from him. "Because I'm not saying that we have to dive into a serious relationship if you're uncomfortable with that, but I'm pretty sure you know I really like you. Or at least I hope you do, because otherwise I did the other night _completely_ wrong-"

" _Castle."_

A hand suddenly presses itself over his mouth, the soft silk of her skin halting his lips in their nonsensical rambling, and he flushes with embarrassment. She's beaming though, her eyes dancing as they smile up at him, and his shoulders lose some of their tension, relaxing a little.

"Are you finished now?" she questions, looking adorably amused at him, and he thinks he should at least be grateful for that. "Because, if you're done, then I can tell you that I…that I really like you as well."

They shy blush that dusts her cheeks confirms her words and his own ache with the intensity of his smile still hidden behind her hand, and he just can't wait any longer. So he pries her hand away from him, keeping hold of her wrist as he pulls her into him, her body softening against his, before he leans down to draw her lips to his.

She sighs against his mouth, her free hand coming up to his neck to drag him closer, and as he moves to deepen the kiss, his head tilting slightly, he knows with a certainty that this is right.

The two of them together feels _right._

Apparently she agrees, because as they separate, her fingers come to touch the swell of her lips, almost in disbelief as her breathe stutters. He presses his forehead down to touch hers, running his hand up her arm to span her waist, and he takes a moment to just breathe her in with the fresh saltwater air.

"You're coming back to work with me, right?"

He hears the words escape her mouth on an exhale that brushes his skin, and he blinks his eyes open slowly, meeting the intensity of her gaze.

"As long as you want me there."

"Good," she nods decisively, gripping hold of his shirt collar. "Because I do want you there."

"So," he starts, feet shuffling with hesitance. "Does that mean we're…you know-"

"Together?" she says, voice low and husky. It's her bedroom voice, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to lift her up so her legs are wrapped around his waist, and carry her up to his bedroom. "Because I think it's safe to say we are, Castle."

The invisible weight forcing down to constrict his chest eases, replaced by a new sense of awe and excitement for whatever future they can have now, one where they can take comfort and share the light with each other, instead of retreating home to their apartments with a strange sense of longing clinging to their skin.

"Well that's good, because I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but my bedroom walls are extremely soundproof."

She hums, rubbing her nose against his. "Are they now?"

"Yep, and I think it'd be great idea to test it out."

The radiant grin she gives him startles his heart to a stop, and she tilts up on her tiptoes, cupping his face with both palm as she dives in for another kiss, stopping only a hairsbreadth away.

"We're not going to crash and burn, are we?" she breathes against him, eyes searching his for answers he wishes he had. "We can make this work."

"I think we can," he tells her, the truth of the statement burning hot like the last rays of the sun disappearing over the horizon. "It might not be easy, but I think we're going to be great, Kate."

"Me too."

And then she leans up and seals that promise with a kiss.

 _The End._

* * *

 _A/N: So this is it everyone! The last chapter for this story._

 _I just want to take a moment to thank every single person who took the time to read this, and especially those who were kind enough to leave me one of the many wonderful comments I have received for this story. Your support means a lot and I really really appreciate it._

 _Also, I have already started writing my one shot collection for ficathon, so I'll have something new up very soon!_

 _I want to say a HUGE thank you to Bean for beta-ing this fic and to the squad for being my wonderful cheerleaders. I love you all._

 _I hope you've enjoyed this fic and thank you so much for coming along for the ride!_

 _ **Tumblr: walkingthroughraindrops**_

 _ **Twitter: dappledshadows**_


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